The Homefront
by The Mass Effect Gamer
Summary: It's 2186, and the Reapers have attacked. Major Coats learns of the true nature of the Reapers and joins forces with Admiral Anderson, and together they set out to combat this ancient enemy and hold out as they prepare for Shepard's eventual return.
1. Chapter 1

**The First Seven Days**

**The Face of the Enemy**

"Get back from there!"

The cybernetic sphere sped overhead, painting the ground with a bright beam of light that left half-foot deep scorch trails on the ground. One unfortunate soldier was caught directly in the beam's path and was vaporized instantly, fading away into red dust. Major Coats dove to the right, his sleek heavy armor carrying his momentum across the walkway, firing his rifle in quick successive shots. The sphere hovered over them, dragging its deadly shaft of light across the plaza. Coats tumbled across the grass and fell off the edge of the terrace. He rolled underneath a park bench, and the sphere zoomed past him, attacking the other soldiers. For the moment, Coats could breathe, his breathing coming in sharp, ragged breaths. His gun rested on his chest.

_Shit. If only it had caught my squad somewhere else other than this damn terraced plaza. We can't fight this thing on foot; this is more of a job for the air force. If we still had one. _

Major Coats rolled onto his stomach, crawling forward with his sniper rifle drawn. His scope shook slightly as he followed the path of the sphere in the distance. With only a few days experience fighting this new enemy, Coats already knew how to kill them. In the few seconds the sphere charged its particle beam, he had to shoot down the barrel of its gun. He drew in his breath and dragged the reticule over the center of the eye of the sphere, firing two shots in quick succession.

The cybernetic sphere closed its barrel and began hovering to Coats's position. Coats scrambled out of the bench and dove onto the edge of the staircase. His armor glided smoothly over the polished metal, carrying him faster and faster past the terraces. Behind him, the sphere fired its weapon, liquefying the staircase as the machine unloaded its deadly payload. He spun around and soon his rifle settled into a rhythmic fire rate: he fired three times, pulled back the bolt, ejected the clip, slotted in a new clip, pushed the bolt forward, and fired again.

The surface beneath Coats disappeared and soon he was flying through the air. _Well, I had to run out of staircase eventually. _Coats twisted in mid air and turned to his side, turning his landing into a roll. The oculus ceased its fire and flew past him, rising high into the air. Suddenly, the sphere was barreling towards him, weapon open and charging. He rolled onto his back and raised his rifle. _Just you and me._

He fired. The machine shook momentarily as its shields flickered, and resumed charging.

He fired again, almost missing the sphere. The bullet glanced off its kinetic barriers, taking the full impact of the projectile. It shields faded away.

The machine fired the beam, slamming into the ground mere feet away from his face. He could feel the heat of the particle beam radiate across his body. Coats fired the rifle as the sphere began to close its barrel again. The oculus shook violently and cracks of light began to emit from its metal skin. He lay on his back, captivated by the steadily brightening sphere. Then Sergeant Newcastle's voice shook him out of reverie. "Major Coats, run like _hell_!"

Coats rushed to his feet and sprinted in the opposite direction, sniper rifle dangling at his side. He could actually see himself lift into the air as a ball of hot air and fire exploded outwards behind him, throwing shockwaves around the plaza that flattened trees and overturned cars. There wasn't even time to gracefully land as Coats tumbled to the ground, winded. The world spun around him and lights danced in his vision.

Then it stopped. Coats lay on the ground, breathing hard. His breathing sounded muffled and it was then he realized that there was a high-pitched whine in his ears. He sat up, trusting his body to stay upright. _I've held onto it for thirty-five years, and these past few days have tested me more than anything I've ever been through in my short life. People die all the time in war, and I've just barely scraped by. I wonder when my time will come? _

"Major Coats!"

The veteran swiveled his head to the right, wincing at the slight creak in his neck as it twisted. _Shoot me for not wearing a helmet. _"Major Coats," the soldier gasped, one hand on his knee and one hand outstretched. He took the hand, allowing the soldier to help him to his feet. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," Coats said. "And Sergeant Newcastle? It's just Coats."

"Whatever you say, sir."

Coats ignored him, busy surveying the battlefield. For the moment, it appeared that they were safe. Just the moment. He turned to his men, a mere fraction of the company he had headed just days before. "Men, this position has been compromised. I don't believe we can hold out here any longer. I've received a message from Command. We need to fall back to the nearest evacuation post and assist the civilians."

Newcastle nodded, and then froze. "_Shit! _Major, look out!"

Coats twisted around and drew his pistol, already firing. The cannibal shrieked and stepped back as the bulled grazed its shoulder. More cannibals appeared from behind the first, shrieking and stretching their arms out wide. _How the hell did they get so close to us! _Coats retreated up the stairs, squeezing the trigger as fast as he could into the incoming horde. A few of the soldiers held fast, standing firmly against the growing tide of cannibals. They were even getting in a few shots of their own, and Coats was startled to see his shield integrity drop below fifty percent. "Men, move back!" Coats said over the gunfire. "_Now!"_

Coats ducked behind an overturned vehicle and accessed his armor's configuration screen on his omni-tool. He quickly diverted most of the suit's power to his forward kinetic barriers. Adrenaline pumped through his veins, and the tiny electronic nodes processed the chemical, magnifying its effects as more and more flooded his body. _The rushed feeling of power and speed, the liquid that makes people feel as if they could do anything, be anything. _

_ Adrenaline. My old friend. _

Coats rose out of cover, a blurred motion in his mind that made everything seem like a dream sequence. He could feel every bit of recoil, every vibration as his gun jerked against his shoulder. One for every cannibal that crossed his vison. One, two, three. His hand ejected the clip and inserted another clip in one fluid motion. Coats could see the company of soldiers at the edges of his vision as they retreated behind him. He could hear nothing but the dull, staccato chatter of his rifle.

Something suddenly filled his vision and grabbed his shoulder, but Coats didn't even flinch, throwing a blurry fist into it. Then his rifle was up and firing again. Something grabbed his shoulder again, and his fist tightened as he whirled around…

…and saw Sergeant Newcastle. "Major," Adams must have yelled, pulling on his shoulder. "We've got to go!" The fever died down, and it was then Coats noticed that the company had already made it up the stairs. And the horde of cannibals was only getting bigger. Coats recalibrated his barriers as he ran, switching the focus to his back. Cannibals shrieked behind him and their guns chattered away at him. He kept his eyes glued to the road ahead of him. His barriers drew close to the bottom.

Something landed on his back and Coats hit the ground, quickly grinding to a stop. He twisted around and shifted his head to the side as the husk slammed a glowing palm onto the ground. He grabbed the husk's hand, let his fingers close around his knife and jammed the blade into the glowing core of the husk. The husk screeched, and Coats shoved the limp corpse to the side.

The company held them off. The sheer wall of gunfire pushed the cannibals back into the plaza and into cover. Coats felt Sergeant Adams steady hand grasp his own as he pulled him to his feet. Coats held his gaze for a second and nodded, clapping his shoulder.

"Holy _shit_!"

Coats looked up. The sky darkened as a dragon-like creature descended on them. Its blue eyes fixated on the major and it roared at him. _How can we possibly hope to fight off an enemy like this?_ Coats' finger tightened on the trigger and his gun spat bolts of light at the beast, but the shots merely bounced off its armored skin. It arched its head back and then leaned forward, mouth opened wide.

"Get out of its way!" Coats rolled to the side, narrowly avoiding the first volley of fire. The beast turned its twin cannons on him, raining dozens of shells on his position. Coats slid behind a downed gunship and felt the vehicle shake as the cannons impacted against the armor. "We've got enemy air forces attacking us!" Coats yelled into his omni-tool, broadcasting the signal to everyone within fifty meters. "We need help down here. Ground squad, air support, anything!"

The dragon-like creature roared and took to the air, buffeting Coats with debris. "This is Tiger Nine-Two-Six responding," the communicator crackled. Coats fired his pistol behind him over the gunship.

"Tiger Nine-Two-Six, this is Major Coats, head of Alpha company," he said, and glanced over the edge of the gunship. The synthetic beast fired another shell at him, impacting against the ground two meters away from him. "There's a giant _dragon_ thing attacking my squad and enemy ground forces. You've got to take that out!"

"This is Tiger Nine-Two-Six, granting local air support to Alpha company." The gunship flew into view, steadily closing the distance to the synthetic creature. "Deploying fire mission Charlie. Warning: recommend all units retreat to a safe distance."

"Everyone, fall back!" Coats said, bringing his sniper rifle up to the beast. "We've got a fire mission incoming! Tiger Nine-Two-Six, deploy fire mission Charlie."

'Warning: not all units have retreated to recommended distance."

"I'm asking you to deploy a danger-close fire mission!"

"Permission granted. Deploying danger-close fire mission Charlie."

Overhead, the heavy gun swiveled to the face the synthetic creature. The beast finally seemed to notice, rearing its head to let loose its deadly payload. The minigun roared to life, spraying the creature with several thousand razor-sharp bullets. The synthetic beast roared and began firing at the gunship, narrowly missing it. The Tiger flew around the creature and zapped it with its minigun again. "Deploying PKRs," the communicator crackled.

Two missiles flew from the belly of the gunship and smashed themselves into atoms against the body of the synthetic creature, shattering the blue core of its body. The beast roared once, and exploded.

Coats squinted his eyes and turned away. Through the din of the explosion, he could hear the jubilant cheer of his men as the remains of the synthetic faded away to nothing. "Thanks."

"No problem." The gunship sped into the distance, most likely off to help more unlucky souls. Coats jumped off the gunship and stood in the middle of the clearing. "Cut the chatter! We've still got a long way back to the evacuation post, and this place isn't going to be empty for long. Move it!"

The next few minutes passed in silence. The destruction of Vancouver occurred behind him in background noise as he and the rest of his men hurried through the torn alleys of once magnificent buildings. _Earth is being attacked. Why isn't the Alliance doing anything about it? Surely they would help defend Earth, the home of all mankind. _

_ Or maybe, _said the voice in his head. _Maybe there isn't an Alliance to help Earth. Maybe this is happening everywhere, and everyone on Earth is doomed._

Coats found it hard to wrap his head around the idea. The idea that, everywhere in the galaxy, worlds were being ripped apart by monstrous starships. They hadn't received any contact from the people who were attacking them. Pleas of surrender, messages for negotiation, threats of retaliation by order of the Citadel Conventions; all had been met with silence. There had been no contact as the black starships descended on the planet, mercilessly and brutally killing its inhabitants. Coats hadn't heard of beings with the technology to land spaceships the size of dreadnoughts on planet, or the technology to transform people into mindless killing machines. It was all insane.

Coats's eyes flickered back to Sergeant Newcastle. He had only known the new guy for a couple of weeks, ever since he joined the company before the invasion. Bright, inquisitive, and eager, he somewhat reminded Coats of himself when he first joined the force. _Damn, now I feel old. This kid's been through a lot these past few days. The whole thing probably hasn't sunk in yet. _

"Major Coats?" The veteran glanced up at Newcastle. "We've receiving a call from the Vancouver Systems Alliance Command Center. It's for you." He tossed the omni-tool to Coats.

"M-M-Major…M-Major Coats-s…" the communicator crackled. "We need A-Alpha C-C-Company-y to divert-t t-to evacuation post 6A n-now. They're i-in danger o-o-f being ov-v-verun."

"Will do," Coats said, quickening his pace. "We're heading there right now. We'll be there in a minute."

"G-Good luck." The connection cut off, and Coats handed the omni-tool back to Newcastle. "I didn't think that Alliance Command still existed," the sergeant said.

"There's still a chain of command." Coats checked the next alley as they rounded a corner. Something sparked overhead and he realized that they were traveling underneath a downed ship, which had managed to crash onto the building rooftops. "It's just not very clear right now."

"With the whole world going to shit, I'm not even sure if I should follow orders from the Alliance. I'm not going to die for a piece of land the Alliance is willing sacrifice people for."

"If you truly believe that's what this is about, then you miss the entire point of being in the Alliance."

Newcastle looked up in surprise. "What do you mean by that?"

"I'm saying that you need to look at the bigger picture in this situation. Earth is under attack. The Alliance isn't responding, or they can't respond. We're trying to get as many civilians out of the war as possible, but we can't do that efficiently because so many of our forces are scattered, killed, or"—he looked at the sergeant—"lost the will to fight."

"I haven't lost the will to fight," Newcastle said firmly. "I just won't risk my life for the Alliance on a whim."

Coats sighed. "I've put my own life on the line countless times. It's a big step, but you have to accept the fact that what you do on the battlefield affects others as well. Soldiers, civilians. In the situation we're in, it's going to affect millions. That cruiser you helped coordinate from the ground? It'll evacuate hundreds of civilians from a doomed city. That civilian you helped save from a group of husks? He'll save lives in some medical station because he volunteered to help. That piece of rubble you just took for the Alliance? It's a valuable position that can protect innocents away from the front lines. You can't just say, "I've fought hard and I'll help the Alliance if I feel like it." That's being selfish."

Coats silenced the sergeant with his hand before he could speak. "You don't think that I've have to make decisions like that? Some days I felt like shit and I wanted to just quit. Then I had to remind myself of what I was fighting for. The Alliance protects the people who can't protect themselves. That's what we _do_. That's what we signed up for. Just think about that next time you're in doubt."

"Major, we've got a situation up ahead." Coats looked at Newcastle one last time, and then turned away without another word. "What is it?" Coats said.

"Observation Post 6A is completely surrounded," Corporal Adams said grimly.

Coats peered through the network of fallen support beams and saw the evacuation post below. "Oh."

Evacuation Post 6A originally had been a parking garage. Now the scene before him was a battlefield, every square inch covered by husks. The road was dotted with smoking craters and decaying corpses, human and alien alike. The street storefronts were smashed to rubble, bearing black trails of ash and smoldering metal that must have been hit by the invading starships. Husks converged on the parking garage, streaming from every alley and corner. Amidst the mass of corpses and screaming husks, there were bright flashes of light peeking through the horde that caught Coats's eye briefly.

"There they are!" Coats yelled over the groaning screams of the husks. "Draw the pressure off the evacuation post."

The remains of Alpha company gravitated to the edge of the windows and openings, moving and firing as one. Coats's vision was constantly filled with bright pulses of light as their guns rattled against the horde of husks. His sniper rifle bucked and kicked as he fired as quickly as possible. Each shot must have killed three or four husks at a time, and yet the tide of husks was slowly edging towards them, moving away from the parking garage, which Coats could clearly see now. The entrance was encircled with makeshift fortifications and a massive throng of bodies just outside the defenses, guarded by a shockingly small group of soldiers. Then Coats's attention turned back to the husks.

"Keep them back from the windows," Newcastle shouted, but the any order now was ignored as Alpha company hammered away at the edge of the windows. Husks vaulted over their dead allies and clambered up the rubble on the edge of the building, growing frighteningly close to their position. Coats reached back to his belt and released every grenade he had left, throwing the husks into more chaos as the orange-red fireballs ripped and burned their bodies apart. The husks' eyes were glowing bright blue, staring straight at Coats. He narrowed his eyes. _Don't fire until you see the whites of their eyes. It doesn't work if your enemies are glorified zombies and some are as tall as skyscrapers. _

And then the husks were diminishing. Coats found his finger thumbing the trigger less often, the adrenaline high slowly fading away and threatening to give to exhaustion. A husk scrabbled against the metal beneath his feet, and Coats turned his attention back to the fight. Gunfire rattled off somewhere ahead of them, and the husks were cut down, reduced to single digits in a matter of seconds.

Silence. Coats raised the rifle to his shoulder; he hadn't even noticed that he had been firing from the hip the entire time. He took a deep breath and slid down the rubble, coming to a stop at the mass of husks at the bottom. One of the soldiers from the evacuation post was there to meet him.

"Captain Parks of the 103rd Marine Division," the soldier said, extending a hand. "Thank God, you're here. We've been here ever since the Reapers arrived."

Coats took his hand. "Major Coats. I head Alpha company of Vancouver. What's this about Reapers?"

"What?" Parks said with a bewildered expression. "Oh, right. You don't know."

"Know about what?" The captain looked around, and then looked back at Coats. _Don't know why, is it that big of a secret? _

"Anderson can tell you about it inside," Parks said. "We're about to close down this post."

"Wait, Anderson?" Coats said. _Of all places, why is the admiral here?_ "Admiral Anderson is here?"

"Yes." Parks led Coats and the rest of the company inside as the remaining marines closed the garage door, leaving them in the inky, yellow lighting of the garage. "Admiral Anderson has been here, coordinating with the Vancouver Command and the remaining troops we can communicate with. It's been hard."

_Bloody hell. I thought Anderson would be somewhere leading an army against these "Reapers". Turns he's here with the rest of us. _Then something clicked in Coats's head.

"The 103rd Marines? You guys are right up there with the N1 marines. Downright legends."

"We've been told that," Parks replied, maybe a bit smugly. _Can't say the bastard doesn't deserve it, though. _"But all you see here? This is a fraction of the division. We were cut off days ago from the main force. They're all over the galaxy now, though some are fighting somewhere on Earth."

Coats's mind was bustling with questions, but he wisely chose to wait as they stepped into what must have been the command center.

It was a dimly lit room, mostly illuminated by the bright blue glow of the platform in the center of the room. Several people tapped away furiously at terminals to the sides, and some were standing at the platform, pointing at something on the platform. One man was standing apart from the others, looking grimly at the platform with his head resting on his hand. His face looked haggard, and he had as many scars as he had stars on his uniform. Coats didn't recognize him, but he could guess who it was.

"Admiral Anderson," Coats said, saluting. "Major Coats. It's an honor to meet you, sir."

Anderson stood up, and waved a hand at Coats. "At ease, soldier. Just call me Anderson. My title's getting less important by the second."

"Then with all due respect sir, what's going on? Who are the "Reapers"? Why isn't the Alliance helping?"

"I remember a soldier who told me that "with all due respect" just meant kiss my ass," Anderson chuckled. Then his face grew hard. "The Reapers."

Anderson tapped something on the platform, and a 3-D image of _something _appeared above the screen. "This is what we're facing, what Shepard warned us about."

"Excuse me, sir. Commander Shepard knew?"

"She tried to warn us," Anderson continued, "but the Alliance, the Council, nobody listened. And now the shit's hit the fan."

Anderson enlarged the image, and now the cuttlefish-like creature grew until it loomed over them. Coats felt a sense of foreboding. "The Reapers are our worst nightmares. Do you know how the Protheans died, Coats?"

"No, sir. No one does."

"A very select few know, though. The Reapers killed the Protheans. Every single one of them."

_What? _"What?" Coats said.

Anderson shook his head. "The Reapers have been here for God knows how long. Millions, billions of years. They're so old, we can't even begin to comprehend their existence. And they don't feel anything for us. They'll kill us all without a single shred of mercy because they've been doing it for so long."

"Doing it? You mean…killing people?"

"Every 50,000 years or so, the Reapers come out of dark space and hunt the existing species to extinction. They also process billions of those organics and create a hybrid of organics and synthetics. A Reaper. Then they return to dark space and wait to do it all over again. When the next species is advanced enough, they come back."

Coats felt something crawl down his spine. "How do they know when it's time? How do they get here?"

"The Reapers built the Citadel and the mass relays. Not the Protheans. All of the technology that we use is based on the Reapers. They leave the technology behind for us to find so we develop along the lines they want us to. The Citadel is actually a mass relay into dark space, and every time they leave a vanguard here to monitor us until they think we're ready. Then the Reapers signal the keepers on the Citadel and they open the relay, allowing the them to come through and kill the galaxy's leaders in a matter of seconds. Communications are cut off, and the Reapers have access to all of the records stored on the Citadel. Then they proceed to systematically hunt down all of us."

Coats was speechless.

"No one knows where the Reapers come from. But they're terrifyingly powerful, stronger than any ship we can muster. It took the entire Citadel fleet and an Alliance fleet to defeat Sovereign at the Battle of the Citadel. And there are hundreds of ships just as powerful as Sovereign hovering over Earth right now."

"Is there anything we can do to stop them?"

"Not without help. Shepard's out there right now, gathering the galaxy's forces to unite against the Reapers. I won't lie; our chances are slim to none. But we have hope."

"What about the turians? The asari? Can't they see what we're facing here on Earth?"

Anderson shook his head. "Everyone is under attack. No place in the galaxy is safe from the Reapers now. They charged right through the First Fleet and obliterated the Fourth Fleet in a matter of hours. No one's winning this war alone."

The lights flickered as the ceiling rumbled, shaking loose streams of dust. "Admiral Anderson, sir." One of the men at the terminals tapped away furiously at the console. "We need to move, now."

"What's going on?" Coats said.

"The Alliance is pulling out of Vancouver," Anderson explained, breaking into a stride. "The Reapers have claimed the city, and it's getting far too dangerous for us to remain here."

"What about the civilians?" Newcastle interrupted. _He didn't say anything about the Reapers, but now he has something to say about leaving the civies? _

Anderson almost stopped mid-stride. He was silent. "We can't stay here," he said finally. "We need to link up with the remaining Alliance forces, form a more unified force. Like I said, we're not winning this war alone."

"We can't leave all these people here," Newcastle objected, refusing to leave the matter alone. "We have a duty to protect them."

"If we stay here, we won't be able to protect anyone." The hallway finally opened to another area of the garage, which was lined with Kodiak shuttles. The area was bustling with activity, with people loading cargo onto the shuttles and some busily tapping away at terminals.

"But we can't just leave them here to die!"

"You can't expect to save everyone." The man next to Anderson stepped past him. A jagged thin scar ran down through his short hair and past his cheek, and he stared at Newcastle with piercing gray eyes, a calculating gaze that seemed to be sizing up Newcastle. _Where did he get that scar? He definitely didn't get it from a gunfight. _

"Krogh," Anderson warned.

"You have to know when to cut your losses and leave," the man continued, ignoring Anderson. "Vancouver is lost. It has been since the Reapers attacked, and we've done all we can here. It's to retreat and regroup so we can mount a counterattack against the them later."

"We can't leave these people to die just so we can run away," Newcastle said heatedly. "How could we do that?"

"By getting in the shuttle," Krogh responded seriously. "Every war has its casualties. It's time that you understood and accepted that."

"Lieutenant Krogh," Anderson said. "We need to move."

The man stopped. "Yes, sir."

Krogh looked at Newcastle one more time, and then left for the shuttles. Aircars began hovering into the air as personnel evacuated civilians and equipment onto the rising shuttles. "Come on, Major Coats," Anderson said, stepping into one of the shuttles. "I can tell you all about the Reapers on the way out."

Coats shut the door, and soon the noise and bustle of the evacuation post was muffled behind the door. "Admiral Anderson, what happened out there?" Coats said. "Why couldn't the Alliance stop the Reapers?"

Anderson looked down, clenching his teeth. "No one could stop them. We got first word of the Reapers when they hit the batarians. They didn't last a single day. Within hours, the Hegemony had fallen."

"We lost contact with many of our deep space colonies, and soon it was the Sol system left. Arcturus station had been obliterated, along with the Second Fleet. Admiral Hackett had to sacrifice the entire fleet to ensure that the Third and Fifth Fleets could escape. The First Fleet was cut in half before it managed to retreat, and the Fourth Fleet was ready by the time the Reapers arrived on Luna. But it was too late. The Reapers cut right through and hit London. We should have prepared for this. But then again, how could anyone?"

_The batarians fell in a day? Two our fleets were completely destroyed? How could we stop anything like that? _"And Commander Shepard was the only one that knew," Coats finished, sighing. "And we didn't listen to her."

"Exactly," Anderson said. "Now, she's the only thing that can save Earth while we hold the line down here. She's up there now, negotiating with the Council and the other races to draw support for the war."

"Why would she have to?" Coats demanded. "The Reapers are attacking, and they're still arguing about what to do? They should help her as soon as she asks!"

"They're scared, Major. You think you could make a decision to take all your armies and drag them halfway across the galaxy when the Reapers are at your front door, attacking your own home world? Everyone has their own problems, and Shepard's going to have to fight through all of them to garner their support." Anderson chuckled darkly. "It sounds harder than what we're going to have to do here."

"I just hope she doesn't get sidetracked," Coats muttered. "We could use Commander Shepard here."

"There's a lot to do out there, and she's the only one that can do them. Right now we need everything and everyone we can get. And I'm worried about—

"Admiral Anderson, we have a problem."

The admiral rushed to the cockpit, with Coats quickly following suit. Krogh and Newcastle stood behind them as Anderson glanced around the cockpit. "What happened?"

"We just lost signal outside the evacuation post. Even the ladar's jammed. Something's blocking it."

Anderson cursed. "We're just going to have to risk it. We can't stay here any longer. Every day that passes we get weaker here."

"On it, sir." The roof of the garage opened, and the evac shuttles soared into the air. The cockpit quickly fell into darkness. "My God," Coats breathed.

The alien machine moved another one of its legs, knocking over a skyscraper that was barely half its height. Its bulk loomed over the evacuation post, casting a horrible shadow over the aircars. The Reaper destroyer turned to face the shuttles below it, and its red eye slowly began to unsheathe.

"Corporal, get us out of here! All units, scatter. Get out of its range!"

Coats felt helpless as the Reaper charged its glowing cannon and fired, a swathe of red that cut across the sky and fanned across the evac shuttles, throwing some to the ground and incinerating the rest mid-flight.

Half of their forces. Cut down in twenty seconds.

Coats could feel the g-force rippling across his skin as their shuttle sped up, moving faster and farther away from the destroyer. Something flashed overhead and everything was suddenly shaking. "We're hit! We're going down!"

The inside of the car was a blur as their aircar spun around and around. Coats felt his hand grab onto something, but he was suspended in mid-air in the car, watching the shuttle break down in front of him. Anderson had managed to stay in a seat, and was stretching his hand towards Newcastle, who was impacting against every surface of the car. Something _thunked _against his head, and Coats felt his hand loosen, and the blaring alarms soon faded to nothing as he lost consciousness. A ghost sensation spread across his hand, and he could vaguely hear Anderson shouting in the background. There was a final _thud _across his back, and his vision faded to darkness.

**So what did you guys think? Please comment and review!**


	2. Chapter 2: Trapped

**The First Seven Days**

**Trapped**

**I don't even know what to say. That's because I literally sat on this chapter for months before churning out the last thousand words. You guys have been waiting for a thousand words for two months, and for that I am sorry. Summer caught up to me, and I felt like the story was dead for two months. It's only until now that I've managed to get back into the pace of things, and get this chapter going. It's because you've waited this long that I've made this chapter nearly twice as long as the first one. Sorry that this chapter may have several grammatical mistakes, stylistic errors, or even continuity inaccuracies. Enjoy what I've made, and I'm sorry. Hope you like it, though!**

Coats woke up to the sound of gunfire. He had been doing that a lot recently.

His eyes cracked open a fraction of an inch and he could vaguely make out Admiral Anderson standing over him, firing a pistol. His pistol. "Hey, that's my pistol," Coats mumbled.

"Coats," Anderson said, sounding relieved. "Good. You're awake."

Coats took his outstretched hand, stumbling to his feet. "What happened? How long was I out?"

"Not too long," Anderson said, lowering his pistol. "The destroyer hit us and we crashed somewhere in the outskirts of Vancouver. Sergeant Newcastle and Lieutenant Krogh are searching the area for the rest of the 103rd Marine Division. The pilot didn't make it."

Major Coats looked around. In the woods, he couldn't see that much of the Reaper devastation that was evident throughout Vancouver. Then he saw the husks that were strewn across the ground, killed only minutes ago.

There was movement in the corner of his vision, and Coats automatically went for his pistol. His hand scrabbled at the empty holster and his other hand drew his rifle, snapping the contractible gun into the place. "It's all right, Coats," Anderson said. "It's Newcastle and Krogh."

The sergeant was resting his hands on his knees, panting hard. The lieutenant was as stolid as ever, standing straight and raising his head in a salute. "Admiral Anderson," he said.

"At ease, Lieutenant."

The hand went down. "We didn't find any other survivors. We'll have to move elsewhere to find someone else who survived the attack."

Anderson nodded. "We'll head east. We need to move away from Vancouver."

Newcastle nodded vigorously, but Krogh shook his head. "It'll take days for us to reach the next town, and even then there's bound to be a lot more Reaper forces along the way. We need to find transportation, so we should search for a place with comms."

"And fast too," Anderson said as Coats's HUD slowly adjusted to the rapidly darkening evening.

"_Shit_! Behind you!"

Newcastle's pistol flashed bright blue in the darkness, spitting bright bolts of light somewhere past Coats. He twisted around and he instinctively fired at the charging husk, his rifle bucking against his hip. The round tore through the husk's side and only caused it to stagger backwards, but the short pause was just enough as Krogh's hand flashed orange and impaled the husk's chest, tearing it into two. More husks emerged from the forest, and ran straight towards them. Krogh held his omni-blade out expectantly.

"No," Anderson said, blasting away another husk. "We can't stay and fight them. We need to find the 103rd Marine Division."

"Then we better move quickly," Coats said, pointing to the hill. He could barely make out the dark, hulking shapes that lumbered down the hill. "Newcastle, see if you can raise the division on comms."

"Aye, aye." Coats was running hard now, legs slowly gaining pace as he shook off the rigidity that had overtaken them after the crash. His shoulders ached, and his vision blurred slightly as he sprinted through the woods, not even pushing aside the branches and leaves that slapped against his visor. "Take this, Coats."

His hand reached out and snatched the syringe out of the air, inspecting the clear liquid inside closely. "Stimulants," Krogh said, breathing harshly. "They'll help. Stick the needle through the mesh on your elbow joint. They last four to six hours."

Coats jabbed the needle into his elbow and felt the ice cool liquid that immediately spread from his elbow, turning warm as it flowed throughout his body. Coats took a deep breath as he shivered involuntarily. _It's nothing like an adrenaline rush, but it's good stuff. _

"Did we lose them?" Newcastle gasped, slowing down.

"Yeah," Anderson said, leaning against a tree for support. "But listen to that. Is that…gunfire?"

"It could be the 103rd Marine Division," Newcastle said.

"Only one way to find out," Coats said, raising his rifle against his shoulder. He scanned the area ahead of them, and his reticule fell on something human-shaped. "Hang on," Coats muttered, adjusting his scope. "I might have something."

He zoomed in on the skull, and he immediately regretted it as the husk turned to face him, staring at him with empty eyes. His finger tightened on the trigger and the husk's head exploded in a flash of blue. "Never mind. Just a stray."

Gunfire erupted behind him, and Coats managed to turn around just in time for the husks to collapse on his feet. More husks appeared form the woods, but they were quickly cut down by fire from the hill to his left. A lone soldier was firing on the husks, loosing scything bolts of light that quickly cut them down.

The last of the husks fell the to the ground, and the soldier slid down the hill, coming to a rest in front of Anderson. "Admiral Anderson, sir," the soldier saluted.

"At ease, Captain. It's just Anderson."

"Yes, sir." The soldier looked mildly surprised, and then the hand fell.

"This is Captain James Clark," Anderson introduced. "Acting Commander of the 103rd Marine Division. Lieutenant Krogh here is his second-in-command."

"I'm Major Coats," Coats said, shaking his hand. "Head of the 22nd company of Vancouver, or Alpha Company."

"Sergeant Newcastle of the 22nd company of Vancouver," Newcastle said.

"Honored to meet you all," Clark said, shaking the sergeant's hand as well. "Especially you, Major Coats. The hero of Atlanta."

"What about Atlanta?" Newcastle said.

"It's nothing," Coats dismissed. "Admiral, you were saying?"

Anderson nodded. "Status report. Where's the rest of the division? Do you find anyone else that survived the crash?"

"No, sir. We all survived. The rest of the division is up there."

As if on cue, the four remaining soldiers of the Marine 103rd Division skated to a stop behind them, one of them wrapped in a blue corona. _So they have a biotic on their squad too. That's got to be useful. _"Emilia Guarez, Logan Butler, Daniel Carson, and Kevin Carson," Clark listed off. "And John Krogh and I. Meet the 2nd Special Forces Operations Romeo Detachment of the 103rd Marine Division."

The biotic soldier stood quietly behind the rest as the woman shook Coats's hand. "Major Coats," Emilia said, taking off her helmet and shaking her black, chin-length hair. "I've heard a lot of things about you. Let's hope most of them are true. We need the best we can get out here."

"I hope I can," Coats chuckled.

"Emilia is our infiltration specialist," Clark explained. "Butler there is our biotic and medic, and Kevin and Daniel are our tech specialists."

"This is Major Coats?" said one of the brothers, scratching his brown hair, helmet tucked in the crook of his elbow. "Somehow I imagined him taller."

"And with blond hair," piped in the other brother.

"And a star on his chest."

"With a shield."

"Wait, that's Captain America." The first brother said. "Wrong guy."

"Do you find anymore survivors in the area?" Captain Clark said, stopping the Carson brothers before they confused Coats with anyone else.

"No," the biotic spoke for the first time, glancing at them once with green eyes before returning his gaze to the ground. "But we did manage to find something else on the LADAR scans. A factory."

"A Hadne-Kednar factory," Emilia affirmed. "It might have a functioning communicator."

"Is anyone still there?"

"Not that we could find," said Daniel, the taller brother. "LADAR only picked up the outline of the factory. It's about five miles north from here."

"Then let's get moving," Anderson said. "Before it gets darker. It'll be nearly impossibly to see soon."

Coats could barely see through the darkness without his visor. "Too late."

Coats stared at the gray, dismal building that must have once been the workplace of dozens of workers. _Completely abandoned now because of the Reapers._

"Are you sure this is the place?" Daniel said, squinting at the building.

Kevin pointed at the rusted bill board above them. "You see where it says "Property of Hadne-Kednar"?"

"Yeah."

"I'd say this is the place."

_He's lucky he's shorter. _Daniel leaned over and tried to whack his head but Kevin ducked and retreated to a safe distance. "Easy you two," Clark said, straining his neck to the see the top of the fence. "We need to get inside the factory. Assume hostiles."

The brothers instantly snapped into business mode, each drawing large, bulky heavy pistols. Kevin slotted a glowing blue visor over his left eye. "Yes sir," Daniel said without a trace of humor in his voice.

"It looks abandoned," Newcastle said.

"The workers probably scattered once the Reapers invaded," Emilia said. "Not that it would help."

"We'll go through the security checkpoint," Anderson said, pointing at the rusted gate that barred the factory from the woods. "This factory looks abandoned. But Clark is right. We don't who or what's in there. Be on guard, and if you see anything move, let the others know."

Coats stepped through the broken glass doors of factory, pistol raised to eye level. The factory was eerily clean, as if all the workers had simply left without removing a thing. Data pads on the front desk were still neatly arranged, stacked and organized in some pattern. The only thing Coats could hear was his breathing. "Where is everyone?" Emilia said, unsettled. "I thought the husks overran everything."

"They have," Clark responded quietly. "They're probably waiting for us."

Emilia looked around. "Then where are they?"

"Do you hear anything?"

"No."

"My point exactly."

Coats ran another scan on his environment, and it turned blank again. _Damn. This place feels like everything is watching us. The shadows are moving, and even the furniture feels like is stretching towards us. It's like a twisted haunted mansion. _

"Shit!" Coats instinctively twisted away from the sound, and after a moment realized that it had been Kevin, who was aiming his pistol at a nearby floor panel. "Something moved into that room. I saw it."

Clark kept his rifle up as he stepped through the doorway, checking every corner of the room. The place looked innocent enough, a standard office block with only an overturned chair in one cubicle to indicate that something had happened. Coats's light painted the wall and it was then he noticed something that was definitely out of the ordinary.

"Admiral Anderson," Coats said, stepping towards the right side of the room. "I think you should take a look at this."

_What the hell is this? _Coats's hand brushed against the gouge marks that marred the otherwise smooth wall. The admiral inspected the five scores, feeling them with the back of his hand. "No human made these," Anderson said. "And it definitely wasn't made by varren. I don't know what could have made these marks."

"Shit, this whole place is giving off bad vibes," Kevin muttered.

_ And I don't blame you. This whole situation feels like a horror vid. _Coats wrenched open a malfunctioned door , bracing his body against the edge to hold it open. "Come on, let's move through here."

Emilia went in first, making sure to inspect the hallway for any hidden hostiles. "We're clear," she announced, and the rest of them followed her inside.

"Daniel, get a LADAR scan of this place," Clark said. "We need a good layout of the building if we proceed further."

"No can do, sir," Daniel responded. "There's some sort of signal blocking the scans. I can't do more than a few feet before it turns to static."

"Damn." The captain rounded the corner, pistol out first. "We'll have to…"

"Captain?" Kevin said uneasily.

Silence. "You might want to take a look at this," Clark said finally.

Coats peeked over the corner. The hallway continued for several meters before ending with two doors set across each other. He didn't notice anything out of the ordinary until he looked down.

_You never forget the smell of dead bodies once you've gotten used to it. _Coats let his pistol dangle at his side as he crouched to survey the trio of corpses. They weren't arranged in any manner, and there weren't any markings or abrasions to indicate the cause of their deaths. The bodies were also cold, meaning that they had been dead for a few days. The small amount of decay affirmed that.

Newcastle shifted nervously, eyes flickering left and right as if whatever had caused their deaths would suddenly claim them. "What do you think happened, Major?"

_No injuries, no markings. It's as if they just keeled over and died. What the hell could have caused that? Some kind of gas? _Coats scrutinized one of the bodies, and it was then he noticed a few black markings of some kind, something he had mistook for decay. Some of the blots had a blue tint, and it was present mostly around their faces. _It could have been a gas, _Coats decided. Yet he quite didn't that would cause these unnatural deaths. He noticed that the woman's eyes were open, and closed her blue eyes out of respect.

"I don't know what could have caused this," Coats said. "Maybe there was some kind of gas? I'd have to know more about what happened here."

"The readings don't pull up anything unusual about the air content in the factory," Kevin said after running a test with his omni-tool. "Maybe they ingested something that killed them."

"We won't find out standing here," Coats said, standing up. "Does anyone know where a communications console would be?"

"The console would be a secure location in case of an emergency," Anderson said. "It would have to be in place where everyone would be able to see and have access to, but not so that there would be a lot of traffic in that area. It would probably be in the factory control center, where they direct the machinery. I'm guessing it would be above the factory floor, overlooking the assembly lines."

"Probably," Anderson agreed. "It's got to be close. This factory isn't that big, and the factory floor is most likely in the center of the building. We'll split up through those doors to cover more ground. Coats, Newcastle, and Krogh, you're with me. The rest of you take the right door and we'll contact each other once one of us has found the comm console. Stay alert, and don't let your guard down. I doubt this place is empty."

Anderson's group entered the left door, and soon the other group was out of sight. Coats made his way through the hallway, disoriented by the flickering lights. Behind him, Newcastle shuddered. "Do you think the workers made it out of here before whatever happened here got to them?"

"I don't know," Coats responded. "Maybe."

"Doubt it," Krogh said harshly. "If those workers back there didn't get out in time, the same thing probably happened to the rest of them."

Newcastle didn't reply back. Coats sighed and trudged forward, making sure to keep a generous space between himself and the next corners. They continued their journey in silence. Finally, as they rounded the next hallway, Coats found it.

"We've got something," Coats said, picking it up. "It's a data pad."

"It's cracked," Newcastle pointed out. "It might not work."

"It looks like a journal," Anderson noticed. "Maybe we can find out what happened here. Play the log entries."

"Some of the data is corrupted, but it looks like we can read some of the log entries. Here's all the ones that we can read."

_07/24/2186. 17:20:43. Log Entry #132_

_ "…It's been a hectic day today…we…a crate of broken…some people slacked…we can't even get a single damn…just awful today…better tomorrow."_

_07/25/2186. 18:50:18. Log Entry #133 _

_ "…lot of the workers left today. Something crazy hap…lost all contact with Vancouver, and now there…black ships flying overhead, shooting anything that moves…glad they haven't noticed us…people have been leaving. Good luck to them._

_07/26/2186. 14:23:34. Log Entry #134_

_ "No one's bothering to work anymore. The managers…and shut down the factory and closed it off. Nobody is allowed to leave anymore. Someone…and they made us restrain him. Don't know why, I'm just the foreman. No one…."_

_07/27/2186. 12:45:29. Log Entry #137 _

_ "We got word from the Alliance that we're being attacked by an unknown enemy, and that the best…of action was to stay here until help arrives. No shit. We've got enough food in here to last weeks, and all these weapons...I think we're good…the word. Everyone's been edgy though, and we…in contact with the Alliance anymore after that message. I…going on?"_

_07/28/2186. 10:34:20. Log Entry #138. _

_ "Something crashed in the factory floor yesterday. It…strange…touched it and got electrocuted. The managers…until we can…and get help from the Alliance…just left it there. We threw the corpse out the window; we didn't…with it. I'm…bed now, I've got a huge headache." _

_07/29/2186. 14:20:39. Log Entry #139. _

_"One of the workers…crazy and jumped out…didn't even bother to pick him up. Everyone's…weirdly and Bill…listened to the wall for…the factory just seems…the managers locked themselves…said they're afraid. They're just a bunch of…one guy even threatened to…amazing that they've even considered…just messed up."_

_07/30/2186. 17:20:19. Log Entry #140. _

_ "Now I'm convinced everyone's going crazy. Just today someone…and tried to…I haven't eaten since yesterday…feeling cold and shivering all…just a goddamn mess. I don't know…any longer. Maybe…leave and…just this pressure in my head, closing…going nuts." _

_07/31/2186. 10:29/50. Log Entry #141. _

_ "I almost…write this log. My head…fuzzy and I…think with all this noise. Theres…no one out…just sitting in my room. I broke the picture of my…just left it on the floor, in case they picsk it up later. I wonder why we can't leave…the Alliance never said anythingf about itr. They…told us. Anyway, I've got…early tomorrow. The manager said…and company policey said...This studpid factory. Stupid Elkoss Combine."_

_08/01/2186. 03:20:02. Log Entry #142. _

_ "I don't know wrong ammore…cant thng. My fingers…shaking and just…I've lost all…everyone looks like…theyre havink a party out there while…in thi room. They've been running up and down the staircases forever…I want to joun them too noe. Lookd fun." _

Coats stopped. "That was the last entry." _What the hell happened? Maybe whatever crashed into the factory released some kind of gas or virus that affected everyone. I've never heard of anything like that before. _

"It was like…" Newcastle said quietly. "…like he was sick or something."

Anderson let out a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding. "It sounded more like he was losing his mind. Maybe…all the workers died."

"He said something crashed in the factory floor," Krogh stated. "So that's where we need to go. Whatever caused him to lose his mind, it's got to be there."

"Right." Coats's eyes flickered between the two doors at the end of the hallway. "So which door?"

"Flip a chit?" Newcastle suggested.

"If we're guessing, then I guess we'll go with the right one," Anderson said, stepping to the door. "Be ready for anything." He swiped his hand over the door panel, and the doors swung aside smoothly to reveal…

…a hallway, with a staircase at the end. Coats moved down the hallway quickly and ascended the stairs, taking two steps at a time. He was unnaturally nervous, a bit apprehensive, today. Then again, today was anything but natural. Coats found himself echoing the same feelings that had come across the man in the log entries. It felt like the shadows would just reach out and grab him any minute.

"Major Coats?"

_Great. I was caught spacing out. _Coats looked up. _It's the control center. _

A series of terminals and consoles spanned the length of the rather small room, wrapping around the entire center. A block of panels sat in the center of the room, overlooking the terminals below it. The back of the room sat slightly higher than the front of the center, connected by slight ramps adjacent to the central panels. Windows separated the center from what was most likely the factory floor, though the Coats couldn't exactly see anything through the darkened glass and past the darkness of the factory floor.

"This is it," Anderson said, walking over to the back terminal. "It's the comm console. I'll try to radio for help. Newcastle, Krogh, see if you can find any supplies in here."

Coats was peering through the glass when something caught his eye. It was a dim, but constantly pulsating blue colored speck of light in the front of the window. He blinked a couple of times, but the speck stayed. _Now what's that? _"Admiral Anderson, I think I see something."

"What is it?" Anderson walked over to Coats, who pointed at the light.

"That." Anderson concentrated on what must have been a speck of light in his vision, but realized that it was actually there. "I don't know. I can't see anything. Newcastle, can you find the lights?"

"Got it, Admiral." The lights flickered on, activating in rows as the overhead beams turned on. The speck of blue light was still there, but below it, there was a swirling, indescribable mass of black color floating around the light at its tip, which explained why they could have only seen the dark color in the light. Three long, metallic tubelike "arms" extended over the dark color and came to a point at the blue light surrounded the mass. The entire structure seemed to radiate the dark energy, shimmering with heat waves. Then Coats turned his attention to the rest of the room. _So that's what happened._

Husks. The entire room seemed to be filled with dark spots, but what Coats had mistaken as spots in his vision were actually husks. They were everywhere, stumbling around the damaged assembly lines, climbing on the walls and machinery. There had to be hundreds of them. As soon as the last row of lights flickered on, every husk in the factory floor turned to stare at Coats, stare right at him and through him. Their blue eyes seemed to be fixated on him. _Just like the eyes of the corpse we saw earlier…_

Coats recovered. "Captain Clark," he spoke into his omni-tool. "Get the hell up here now!"

Then they howled. The husks howled, moaning and shrieking with inhuman pitch and volume. The husks raced up the assembly lines and through the doors and the bulk of the husks disappeared as quickly as they had appeared, leaving the room unnaturally empty. The remaining husks staggered towards the control center, and Coats found himself stepping back even though they were a level above the floor. "Captain Clark," Coats shouted into the omni-tool. "We have a _problem_!"

**10 Minutes Earlier…**

"I spy something creepy," Kevin said.

"That's not how you're supposed to play the game," Daniel responded.

"Just go with it."

"Fine. The factory."

"How'd you do it so quickly?"

"Lucky guess."

"Cut the chatter," Clark said. "We need to focus on finding that control center."

"Well, we are trying to spy stuff," Kevin explained. "That helps."

"You're "spying" any random thing that comes to your head," Clark said wryly. "That's not really helpful."

"Yes, sir," Daniel said, cutting the other twin with a glare before he could respond.

"So much better," Emilia commented. _I've been running scans on this place since we arrived, but I can't ever get more than a few feet around me. What's blocking the scans? _She grimaced at the sight of the next corpse, sprawled in the corner of the hallway. "Hang on, guys. We've got _another _dead body."

"Anything new?" Clark said, almost bored.

Emilia used the extended barrel of her rifle to lift the edge of the body. _I'm definitely going to have to clean this thing when this is over. _"No, nothing new. Same lack of external markings or injuries."

Emilia swore she could hear the captain say, "Of course." And it was true. The last few hallways had provided nothing new for them to piece together what had happened in the factory. And the precariousness of their situation was also glaringly obvious, a constant reminder in the front of their minds. _What kind of gas could have caused this? If it had been a gas or a virus, you'd think we would see a lot more bodies by now. But it's only been a few here and there. _

"Eyes up. Door check."

Before Emilia had joined the Alliance Marines, she always imagined the daring special operations shown on the vids as high-speed chases, gunfire, smoke, and a lot of explosions. So she had joined the Alliance marines with dreams of guns and glory as advertised on the vids. She had been mildly disappointed that patrol after patrol captured most of her time with the Alliance Marines, with the occasional, exciting encounter with a pirate or slaver in the Attican Traverse. However, for the most part, it was just routine. Then she joined the 103rd Marine Division, one of the Alliance's most renowned group of special operatives tasked with putting down insurgencies, combating pirate activity on the edge of the Terminus Systems, and handling otherwise dangerous and delicate situations with precision and a lot of firepower. Even then, her run with the marines had slowed to a crawl, and she found herself playing combat simulation consoles to fill in the long wait times between missions. Now, even in the wake of the Reaper invasion, Emilia almost casually pressed her palm against the door panel and entered the room…

…and found herself faced with a half-covered human skull. She barely suppressed a scream and stumbled backwards, straight into Captain Clark, who fell to the ground with Emilia. The older Carson brother brought up his pistol to the foe who had assaulted his fellow marine, shadowed by Kevin, who crouched low next to Daniel.

"Shit," Daniel said, letting his pistol dangle to the side. He immediately ran his omni-tool over the body. "What happened here?"

"Unsure," Captain Clark said, delicately untangling himself and Emilia. She blushed despite herself, secretly relieved that he couldn't see her the embarrassed expression on her face.

"Eh, sorry about that, Captain…"

"It's fine," the captain said, standing up. "Just make sure you're alert and ready for anything next time."

"Aye, aye, sir."

"Corporal Daniel, what's the cause of death?"

"Don't know, Captain," Daniel muttered, running his hand over the holographic image of the body splayed against the wall. "Multiple lacerations. Half his face was torn apart by _something_. Gouge marks on his chest. Abnormal muscle growth along his arms. Looks more like he was attacked."

"Yes, but by what?"

"It's a mystery to me, Captain."

Clark seemed to work it over in his head for a few seconds, and then he made the call. "Okay. Keep the data. You might never know if it'll be useful. We'll report this to Anderson as soon as we find the comn console. Move out." _And for their sake, I hope we find it soon. _

They advanced down the hallway, this time making sure to watch for any more surprises. Clark squinted down the hallway. _Am I imagining it, or is this hallway getting longer? _

"Captain, I think the LADAR scans are picking up something."

Captain breathed a sigh. _Finally. _"What is it?"

"We've only got a visible radius of several feet," Kevin explained. "but it's enough. The next room looks like the factory floor."

_Good. Maybe we'll find what crashed into the factory floor. _"Good work, Carson."

"Another thing, Captain. This door on the left seems to be a storage room of some kind."

"Check it first."

Emilia backed up to the side of the door. "I think I should take this one, Emilia," Daniel said. She kept a neutral expression on her face, but Clark doubted on the side inside she was anything but.

The door slid open, and the elder brother proceeded into the room. "Some good stuff in here," Daniel commented. "The factory workers were storing arms in here. Just Hadne-Kednar stuff though."

Clark sifted through the weaponry. Even the Alliance had admitted that Hadne-Kednar weaponry was moderate at best. It was for that very reason that the 103rd Marine Division had been supplied with Kassa Fabrication weaponry instead.

"Avenger rifles. Thunder rifles. Predator pistols. Nothing much here, Captain. Mostly stock equipment here."

The captain had almost made the order to move out when he noticed a shiny barrel extending from behind a crate of Avenger rifles. He grabbed the barrel and hefted the surprisingly heavy weapon into full view. Emilia noticed. "Now that's something you don't see every day."

The Hadne-Kednar logo blazed across the side of the gun, but Clark doubted he had ever seen this gun before. There were three barrels, for one, and the gun was colored jet black. The stock extended with a touch of the button, and Clark put the length of the gun around two thirds of a meter. He braced the gun against his shoulder and held the small holographic sight against his eye. His hand ran against the gun and he was surprised to see that there were two thermal clips underneath the rifle. There was a grip at the end of the gun, so Clark surmised that this rifle probably had substantial recoil. If it wasn't a light machine gun, it was definitely straddling the line.

"Damn," Kevin said, whistling. "What kind of gun is that?"

"I'm interested to find that out myself," Clark said, flipping the safety switch. The gun began to hum, and he felt the weight of the rifle lessen. _An internal mass effect core too? I don't think Hadne-Kednar makes this kind of weapon. _

"There's a tag on the side," Daniel said, holding the slip of paper to light. "Spirit Light Machine Gun. Prototype equipment currently being tested and processed by Hadne-Kednar. _Note: Bring this to the foreman. Weapon not yet available for manufacturing._"

"That's cool," Kevin said. "An experimental weapon. Good thing you found that first, Captain."

_With two thermal clips? I can't wait to test this rifle out. _Clark lowered the rifle and stepped out into the hallway. "Come on. We've wasted enough time here. We need to get moving into the next room."

"Right." Captain Clark held his rifle against the door as Daniel and Kevin straffed to both sides of the doorway. Emilia shadowed behind the captain, rifle at the ready. "Door—"

"Captain Clark, get the hell up here now!"

Daniel's hand stopped an inch away from the door. Captain Clark raised his omni-tool to head height.

"Captain Clark, we have a _problem_!"

"What's your status, Major?" Clark said into the mike.

"We're fine. We're in the control center, but you've got to backtrack and get the hell back here!"

"What's going on, Major Coats?" Clark motioned the others away from the door, though he still kept his barrel pointed firmly at the door.

"Husks! The entire factory floor is crawling with husks! There's a Reaper device in there, and it transformed everyone in the factory to husks."

Daniel swallowed. They had been one step away from entering the factory floor…

"Most of them are scattering to the doors. You've got to get moving!"

_The doors? _The door in question slid open, and the husks swarmed inside, shrieking and moaning as they clambered through the doorway. Clark moved back, not by his own initiative but by the gun's recoil. The staccato chatter of the Spirit blended into a steady hum, showering the doorway with armor piercing rounds. _This thing is a monster! _The three barrels vibrated in unison, and Clark thought for sure that the rifle would overheat any second now, yet the Spirit kept firing. The husks disintegrated, nearly melting underneath the heavy fire of the experimental Hadne-Kednar LMG. Clark had wielded a variety of weapons in his tenure, from pistols to hand-held artillery, and from Shuriken pistols to Revenant machine guns. But this was _much _different.

"Hell yeah!" Clark found himself shouting despite himself. It was then he realized that the husks were gone, reduced to ashes by the rifle. The steady hum abruptly stopped, and he shook the hum out of his head. Kevin whistled.

"Damn. You think we could get Command to make those standard-issue?"

"Not the time, Carson," Clark said, taking the lead back to the control center. "We need to get moving before more husks show up."

_Yeah, and then we'll have to wait until you obliterate them with your new toy. _Emilia dropped a proximity mine behind them to deter any husk tagging along behind them. They had a long walk ahead of them.

"Newcastle! Block that ladder!"

Another husk daringly ventured up the ladder, but the sergeant shot its head off before it reached the third rung. He took the emergency handle of the ladder door and slammed it shut, sealing the ladder.

"It's done, Major!"

"Good work," Coats took cover behind the fallen desk they were using as makeshift cover. Fortunately, the only way to the control center was up through the hallway and up staircase, which was a relatively long stretch without cover for anyone who tried to get to the control center. That suited Coats just fine.

**14. **His kill counter beeped once as his helmet registered another a kill. Coats adjusted his rifle's firing rate. With this rifle, he could adjust the rifle's rate of fire by flipping back and forth between semi-automatic and bolt action. If he kept the rifle in bolt action, the firing rate was lower but each shot carried more force and speed. If he fired the rifle in semi-automatic mode, like he was doing now, then he could put more bullets down range but with less power. In this case, the latter was preferable.

**15. **The husk's head exploded in a grisly explosion of blackened flesh and miniscule cybernetics. _15 kills in two minutes. Impressive, considering I'm using a sniper rifle in a small staircase. _**16. **Another husk down. _It's getting easier to kill them; all I have to do is point and shoot. I don't think that's a good thing. _

"Newcastle! Any word from Captain Clark yet?"

"Negative, Major!" Newcastle yelled over the gunshots and the screaming.

"Admiral Anderson, have you finished sending that message?"

"I can't reach anyone!" Anderson yelled back from the control center. "Either no one's in range, or the system's out!"

"Major, on your right!" Krogh loosed a few rounds from his Mattock, shredding the husk that had gotten dangerously close to the staircase. Newcastle fired his Avenger at the steadily increasing horde of husks that streamed through the door on the far side. Against this many enemies, it seemed woefully inadequate. Husk after husk burst through the doorway, clambering over each other and their dead allies to get to the intruders who had invaded their territory. Coats's hand slipped and flipped the semi-auto switch as he moved to reload, causing the gun to sputter and fire a single bullet. The barrel flashed and the shot drilled through one husk and continued through two more before finally impacting against a fourth, causing it to stumble backwards.

_That's absurd! I just killed three husks with one bullet through the chest. Where's Captain Clark? _"Admiral! What's our evac looking like?"

"Comms are down! I'm looking for flares right now!"

_Shit. We're really cutting this down to a hair. _Coats returned to his position and fired again. The bullet impacted harmlessly against the wall on the other side of the room. _Oh. The husks stopped coming. Why did they stop coming? _

"Why'd they stop?" Newcastle lowered his Avenger. The lieutenant kept his rifle up.

"Hold the post here," Coats ordered, walking to the control center. "Newcastle, try to raise Captain Clark. I've got to talk with the admiral."

"Yes, sir." Anderson was crouched down, digging inside one of the cabinets in the corner of the room The major started probing the room for any emergency pack that might have contained a flare. "Any luck, sir?"

"No," Anderson said. "But we're not done yet. Maybe we can use this."

Anderson tossed _something _to Coats, who deftly caught it and held it out. The yellow tip of the weapon protruded from the barrel, which extended out a third of a meter. Coats flipped the weapon and ran his hand along the length of it. "ML-77 missile launcher," Coats examined, checking the ammunition capacity. "9 shots. I don't think we can hold out forever, even with this."

"We're not just going to use it to hold our position," Anderson said. "We can use it as a flare."

"You think anyone in the air's going to notice these?"

"I think _one _of those should be enough. But you should fire a few in the air, just to be sure."

"How am I supposed to get this missile launcher in the sky?" Coats said. "The husks have the doorway blocked."

"That's not the only way out," Anderson responded, jerking his hand towards the side of the room. "It goes to the roof."

Coats followed his hand all the way to the other side, until he saw the ladder protruding form the ceiling in the corner. "Emergency ladder," Anderson said. "Comes in handy, doesn't it?"

"Bet the architects never thought we'd used in it in a situation like this," Coats commented, handing the launcher back to Anderson, who started up the ladder.

"Make sure our perimeter is secure," Anderson said, disappearing up the shaft. "I'll be on the roof."

"Don't take your time, Admiral." Coats glanced out the window, and instantly regretted it. A husk was hanging onto the glass, beating its black hand against the toughened material. "Newcastle, what's the situation with the other group?"

"They said they're coming, Major! The husks seem to be focusing on them!"

"What—"

A screech resonated through the air, leaving Coats's ears ringing, even through his helmet. The shriek was unlike anything he had ever heard, some ghastly noise that shook him to his core. By chance, Coats looked out the window again.

The Reaper creature levitated itself in the air across the room, staring at Coats with sunken eye sockets. Its mouth was open wide, stretched in a twisted grimace. Five claws extended from its hands, and a blue corona surrounded its body, a blackish blue color that seemed to bend light around it. _All the credits in the world say that's probably the thing that left the marks on the wall. _The creature shook, writhing with biotic energy, and then disappeared.

Coats shook his head, and then looked again. The creature hadn't disappeared; it _teleported _a meter away from where it had stood before. It teleported again, and again, and soon it was out of sight.

_My god. _"Captain Clark!"

"Responding!" the captain yelled on the other line. He could hear a humming sound and innumerable shrieks and moans.

"You've got some…_thing_ headed your way! It's got claws, it's a biotic, and it teleports! Get back here now!"

"You've got to be kidding me," Clark muttered. "We're going, we're going! What's our evac situation?"

"Admiral Anderson's already firing flares. As soon as someone takes a look, we'll be ready to go."

"Roger! ETA 2 minutes!"

"Clark. Stay away from that thing!"

"Will do."

"Major Coats," Anderson said over the comms. "Evac shuttles have marked our position and are coming soon. ETA two minutes."

"Got it," Coats said, moving back to the door. _Clark, you better get here on time. I don't like our chances against…whatever that was. _

"What is this, a horror movie?" Daniel leapt over the crate, firing his empty pistol at the approaching husks. "How did we get _lost_?"

"Urgency and external pressures," Clark huffed, wrenching open another malfunctioning door. "Emilia, lock this door! We can't run from them forever."

"On it, Captain!"

"Kevin, if you can get those LADAR scans up, feel free to tell me where the _hell _we're going!"

"I'm trying, Captain! That Reaper device must be blocking the scanner."

"Damn it!" Clark batted away another mutated arm and shredded the offending husk with another burst from his rifle. Another husk passed through his vision and an orange sphere spun in front of him, throwing an electric ark at the Reaper creature. A blue sphere joined the first one and the husks soon fell out of view.

"I'm running out of combat drones, sir!" Daniel yelled. "Anymore come and all I'll have are defense drones!"

"Then make them count," Clark said, burst-firing another husk in the chest.

"Captain, I've found the staircase!"

Clark stole a glance behind him. Emilia crouched in front of a clearly broken door, sparking and smoking as it attempted to close itself. "I can see a barricade ahead of me," Emilia said, pushing against one of the doors. "But the door's stuck!"

"I might be able to get it open," Kevin said, running his omni-tool against the door. "It'll take some time. Emilia, contact Major Coats! Tell him to help me get this door open."

"Right!" Clark went prone, steadying his rifle arm on the ground. "Daniel, watch the other hallway. We're staying in this corner until we can get that door open!"

"Yes, sir!" A husk ducked its head around the corner and Clark quickly splattered its head against the wall with a burst of fire. Another husk darted from behind the wall, and suddenly the lone husk was joined by a horde, storming the other end of the hallway in a symphony of moans and shrieks, which were quickly muffled as Clark's rifle buzzed away at the massive wave of husks, obliterating them into dark masses of mist and gore.

"Captain Clark," issued Coats's voice from Clark's omni-tool.

"Responding!" Clark hissed as his hand momentarily grasped a steaming thermal clip.

"Evacuation shuttles have arrived. Have you got the door open yet?"

"No, we're still working on it!"

"Roger that. We'll think of something."

"Captain!" Kevin said, eyes never leaving the door. "I've got something on the scanner."

"What!" Clark yelled back, jamming two more thermal clips into his gun.

"Whatever the Major was talking about earlier, it's coming, and it's big. It's giving off a huge energy signature!"

"Then work faster, Warrant Officer!"

"Yes sir!" His omni-tool beeped and he slid the call bar open.

"Officer Carson!" Krogh's voice issued through the omni-tool.

"Responding!" Kevin said, fingers flying across the door panel.

"Get away from the door. We're blowing it wide open. Five seconds."

Kevin backed up _fast. _"Captain Clark! They're blowing the door. Get ready!"

"Whenever you are!" Captain Clark said through his teeth. His shoulder vibrated again as the Spirit scythed through several ranks of husks. Another husk stepped within five feet of him and its head was blown off entirely, leaving its rotten corpse to crumple to the ground. Emilia dove next to him.

"You can thank me later," Emilia said, head down. "Fire in the hole!"

Clark's head hit the ground a fraction of a second before the door exploded in a flash of sparks and smoke. Kevin was up and running before the door had crumpled. "It's open!"

As they stepped through the doorway, as Captain Clark ran through the smoke and fire, he saw it. It floated around the corner, and the Reaper creature stared straight at him. Its horrid, grotesque face twisted into a nightmarish smile, and it screeched, an earsplitting shriek that sent shudders down Clark's back. And then the creature disappeared. Literally, before his eyes, it vanished. Then it appeared, four feet closer to his face than he would have liked. He ducked his head behind the doorway.

"Get up that ladder!" Clark yelled, keeping the trembling in his voice at bay with sheer will. "On the double!"

"Don't have to tell me twice!" Daniel shouted back, and he vanished up the ladder. Krogh stood ready at the door, gun out and facing the door. Clark stopped next to him and clasped his shoulder.

"Lieutenant, we're going! Nothing's going to stop that thing!" Krogh looked down the sight of his rifle once more, and then he turned towards the door.

"Yes, sir." Krogh grasped the first ladder rung and disappeared up the ladder. Clark followed suit, and then Major Coats was left. He looked back towards the door one more time, and then he stepped up the ladder.

"Come on, Coats!" Anderson yelled over the roar of the shuttle engines. "Let's move!"

The wind buffeted Coats, threatening to tear his body off the rooftop. Suddenly, the evacuation shuttles seemed so far away. _Come on, Coats. Get the hell of your ass and get moving. _His legs felt like lead, and it seemed like an eternity before his feet touched the metal flooring of the shuttle.

Anderson quickly ushered him in. "We're clear! Take off!"

The door closed, and the shuttles veered away from the factory rooftop. Something inside the factory screamed, the sound even making its way to Coats's ears inside the shuttle. _My god. _The scream died as the shuttle sped away from the factory, and the last echoes fell into silence. Coats sat down, hard. _God. It feels like it's been forever since I've last sat down. _He rested his head against the shuttle wall and his eyes soon closed, allowing him to drift into a thankful sleep.

**Please leave reviews after you read! They're really helpful, and I've even taken a leaf from Jord's review about this story's dialogue and setting ( I hope I've fulfilled that expectation). And to espoir1066, yes, I intend to add characters and more cameos from the Mass Effect universe, though I don't think I'll be making more stories about other characters any time soon. Anyways, thanks guys! And sorry for the wait!**


	3. Chapter 3: A Plan of Action

**The First Seven Days**

**A Plan of Action**

**This message was written right after I had finished writing and posting the second chapter a few minutes ago. I hope that I've kept to a reasonable update time by the time I've written this blurb. Thank you guys for keeping up with my story and enjoy! **

_The man sitting across from him clicked his tongue. "So what's the plan, Andrew? Are you just going to fly around the United North American States until you run out of fuel?" _

_ Coats shook his head. "I don't know, Leo. It's all up in the air now. Everything has gone to hell." _

_ Leo laughed. "You and I have both been to hell, Andrew. Except you came back." _

_ "I'm sorry, Leo." _

_ Leo's expression darkened. "You should be. Don't waste your time and die out there. Otherwise, it'll have all been for naught." _

_ "I know." _

_ "It's too bad, Andrew. I think would I have done a better job of this than you have…" _

_ "It's not like that, Leo! It's—"_

Coats's eyes flew open, and he sat up immediately. His hand was already resting on his holster when a hand grasped his shoulder. "Major Coats," Anderson said, frowning. "Are you all right?"

_No enemies. Just friendlies. I'm in the corner of a shuttle, and I've got my back against the wall. Nothing to worry about. For now. _"Yes, I'm fine. It's just…never mind that. Do you know where we're going now?"

Anderson looked down. "No. We don't know yet. We lost more than half of the shuttles on the way out of Vancouver. The chain of command is scattered at best. We're still trying to coordinate what's left of our forces."

Coats nodded. "Understood, Admiral."

"Admiral Anderson," said one of the ensigns, waving him over. "They're holding an emergency staff meeting between the captains. You're the leading staff member."

"Okay," Anderson said, standing up. He offered his hand to the major. "You too, Major Coats. Your input would be…appreciated."

"Yes, sir." Coats stepped in front of the array of screens, each showing a different captain from each shuttle. None of them looked hopeful.

"Admiral," said one of the captains respectfully. "We hope to clarify a few things in this meeting."

"As do I," Anderson replied.

"But first," another captain said. "What should we do next? What's our plan of action?"

"I'd like to know something first before we discuss that," said the bald-headed captain. "The Reapers. All we've been told is that our enemy is called the Reapers and that the entire galaxy is at war. Can anyone shed light on this situation?"

"I can," Anderson said, straightening up. He looked around the shuttle. "Everyone, listen up. This concerns all of you."

He looked back to the screens. Every shuttle was silent. Coats could barely hear the hum of the engines as Anderson began.

"The Reapers have been here for a long time. Before the Protheans, long before anything we could ever imagine. Their only goal is to harvest the galactic population and use their genetic material to create more Reapers.

The Reapers are half-organic and half-synthetic. That's because they use our DNA to create more of them. Every 50,000 years the Reapers come from dark space through a mass relay to destroy galactic civilization, leaving only ruins. That's what happened to the Protheans.

The Reapers are powerful, nearly unstoppable. You all know about the geth dreadnought that fought at the Battle of the Citadel? That wasn't a geth ship. That was Sovereign, a Reaper capitol ship. It took the combined force of the Citadel fleet and the Alliance Fifth Fleet to bring down Sovereign, and that was when Sovereign was distracted. And now there are thousands of ships as powerful as Sovereign invading Earth and the rest of the galaxy.

Not only are they powerful dreadnoughts, but they're sentient. They're smarter and stronger than we could ever be. They all use a powerful energy field that induces an effect on organics called indoctrination. The process can last from a few days up to several weeks. It all depends on what the Reaper wants. Indoctrination can turn your most loyal ally into a mindless husk that only serves the Reapers. The Reapers attack our evacuation centers, our residential sectors, our shelters for the people. The more people they can indoctrinate, the better.

So what can we do to stop the Reapers? I'll tell you now: I don't know for sure. But I do know of one possible solution. A fleet. A fleet comprised of every ship in the galaxy, the combined navies of each species. The asari, the salarians, the turians, the elcor, the quarians, the volus, the batarians, the drell and hanar, the krogan. Everyone. And there's one person out there now that's trying to do exactly that. Commander Shepard. You've all heard her name. Right now, she's the reason we're going to win this war. And to do that, we all have to do our parts. We all have to fight hard, fight just as hard as she is now. Winning this war will take all our efforts. And we can't give up because we're going to have to give it all we've got."

Anderson took a deep breath. "And right now, we need to keep up the fight on the home front long enough for Shepard to arrive with the galaxy's fleet behind her."

_I've felt silence before, but this is palpable. Then again, I can't blame them. It's a lot to take in. _Every soul in the shuttles was focused on the admiral, and each was listening to him, unblinking and attentive. The captains had also fallen silent. The bald-headed captain seemed to be working up the courage to say something, to argue with the admiral's slim hope of victory, yet there was nothing he could say. What else could they do?

"We need a coordinated effort," Anderson continued. "Nobody's winning this thing alone. So now, we need to link up with the remaining Alliance forces on Earth to combat the Reapers because anything else wouldn't stand a chance."

"How can we go about communicating with them?" one of the captains questioned. "The Reapers have severely damaged our communications network. We have very little connection with other parts of the country, and the other countries are nearly silent."

"The Reapers have been for the most part focusing on our military and our communications network," Anderson stated. "Once we're running completely blind here, they'll begin harvesting us. We need to dig in our heels in the ground and fight them with everything we've got. But only if we do it together."

"Admiral," the gray-haired captain said. "If I may. I have some intelligence that may be of importance to this meeting."

Anderson nodded. The gray-haired captain straightened his lapels and a data pad appeared from underneath the screen.

"The first part of the report: Reaper forces have destroyed approximately 92% of our wireless communications network. Approximately 4 of our communication satellites are still functional, and 12% of the cellular broadcast towers in the United North American States are still in working order. There is a cellular broadcast tower within fifty miles of San Francisco that is still in working condition. However, for the most part, our wireless network is gone.

That being said, 87% of our landlines on Earth are still intact and functional. The wireless receivers on the remaining landlines are working and ready to transmit. If needed, we can transmit data across these landlines. So as long as these landlines remain functional and we still have access to power, we can communicate with each other."

"That's good," Major Coats said, thinking hard. "Most of those old landlines are underground. As long as the Reapers don't notice them, they'll be hard-pressed to shut our network down."

Nods of approval. The captain continued with his report.

"The second part. Cities across the UNAS have fallen to the Reapers. We still have contact with some of the major cities, but areas such as New York, Pittsburgh, Atlanta, Washington D.C., Houston, and San Francisco have all but succumbed to the Reapers.

However, there are rumored safe havens. Los Angeles is supposedly an area that the Reapers have ignored and still has a dominant human presence. The same goes for Detroit. And Boston. Then again, it must be noted that these are rumors and may or may not have some truth to them."

"Doubt it," snorted Lieutenant Krogh. "The Reapers have hit everywhere. Don't expect them to ignore some of the largest cities on the planet."

"It may be a long shot," Clark said. "But it's still a shot. Don't take that information lightly."

"I treat all information the same," Krogh said calmly. "With a grain of salt."

"The third part," the gray-haired captain continued. "All remaining spacecraft on the ground have been deemed negligible as any attempt to raise these spacecraft will result in swift termination by the Reapers. There are still naval craft on the seas, but their role in this war is nearly insignificant. However, aircraft still remains a factor in the war on Earth.

Our air forces are still combating the Reapers, but for all intents and purposes, they have control of the air. Over 64% of our aircraft remaining is civilian craft. Most of them are scattered around the planet, but there are a few sizable pockets of intact aircraft. There are around 100 aircraft in the Las Vegas airport as of three hours ago. Other than that, we don't know much else about other locations."

"If we could get our hands on some of those birds, we could do some damage later," said Daniel.

"That's "if"," Krogh said, resting his arms over the barrel of his gun. "Our dreadnoughts couldn't damage a Reaper. What good will our air force do? And an isolated, damaged one at that."

Major Coats found himself unconsciously nodding. _It's not encouraging, but he's right. What difference will it make? _

"It'll make a difference," Anderson responded. "Everything counts. Even the smallest bit of help might tip the scales of this war. We need all the resources we can get, no matter how small or how insignificant they may seem to be. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good." The admiral turned his attention back to the screens. "Now gentlemen, I am open to suggestions to our next move. What will we do next?"

"We need to get the message across the planet," one of the captains said. "Start coordinating our forces. So we'll go to that cell tower in San Francisco and broadcast the message. If we're to make a push to take back Earth, we need to be organized."

"We'll be discovered in an instant," said Captain Parks. "We should take the shuttles to Los Angeles for shelter. They could probably use what resources we have. Some of the civilians in these shuttles could use the rest that these safe cities can provide."

"_Alleged _safe cities," the bald-headed captain said. "We don't actually have any proof that those sites have fallen or not. We shouldn't try our luck; the best thing to do now would be to take the shuttles to Las Vegas and begin stockpiling our resources. Those aircraft won't be sitting on the runways of Las Vegas forever."

"That's still not—"

"It doesn't do any—"

"—see the point—"

"—unfounded—"

_Smack. _The sound of Anderson's fist hitting the table reverberated throughout the shuttles, throwing a curtain of silence over everyone. "That's enough! It's obvious that there are several different opinions on our next move. That's why we're going to split into three groups.

Captain Parks, you take shuttles 2A through 2E, shuttle 2H, and shuttles 4A through 4C to Los Angeles to scout it out, see if the rumors are true. Be on your guard; aside from what we've heard, L.A. is a blank. Captain Norman, commandeer shuttles 3A through 3D and shuttle 3G to the cell tower near Los Angeles and begin coordinating with the rest of the Alliance. I'll fly with Captain Ferrell to the Las Vegas airport. I fully expect the airport to be crawling with Reapers, so he'll take shuttles 1A through 1E and shuttles 5B, 5D, and 5F. The rest of the shuttles will wait at the dispersion point until we each arrive at our destinations. If all goes well, we'll meet back in Los Angeles to regroup. If the information turns out to be false, we'll meet at Fort Hannover. It's a decommissioned Alliance military outpost in Arizona, and I doubt there will be anyone there. Captains, discuss with your crew and the other shuttle captains on your next plan of action. Report back to me in 2 hours. Understood?"

"Yes sir," the captains replied, and one by one the screens blacked out until the last one with the stony bald-headed captain winked out of existence. The crew returned to their duties, leaving Anderson standing alone in the middle of the shuttle. He sighed and sat down against the wall.

"Shit," he said finally, and his eyes were closed and his hat was down before he knew it.

Major Coats stood in the corner, watching the tired admiral's shoulders slump into sleep. He sat down and looked at his omni-tool, flipping aimlessly through the main menu. _Anderson has a lot riding on his shoulders. Hell, he's always had a lot riding on his shoulders. Only now it's the fate of what's possibly one of the only sizeable military forces left on the planet. It's a lot to handle. But I'm confident Anderson is the man to do it. _

"Is this seat taken?" a voice above him said.

"Not that I believe," Coats responded, not even looking up.

"You've look like you've seen a ghost," Clark chuckled, sitting against the wall next to him. "Or an alien version of one."

"You could say that," replied Coats. "Did you come here to talk about ghosts, or did you actually have something in mind?"

"I didn't necessarily have anything in mind when I came here," said Clark. "Just a friendly conversation."

"Okay, _friend. _What do you do for a living?"

"I fly around the galaxy in a spaceship and combat pirates," Clark said after a moment, and then he chuckled. "Only now I shoot at zombies and cuttlefish."

"Right."

Both men chuckled, letting the moment settle. Clark turned to Coats.

"So what do _you _do for a living?"

"I lead and trained a company of soldiers on Earth," Coats said. "Of course now the company's been disbanded. By way of alien invasion."

"Seems to be happening to a lot of people recently."

"Yeah."

Silence. Clark let his head rest against the wall, and what seemed like hours passed before Coats broke the silence. "So what made you decide to join the force?"

Clark's head snapped up, and he rubbed his hand over his face before he responded.

"That's a deep question," the captain said thoughtfully. "It may take some time, though, so get ready for a big story."

"I've got my popcorn right here."

"It all started when I lost my mother," Clark began, and then he laughed. "I'm just shitting you.

I guess I always liked shooting stuff. I lived in one of those bad neighborhoods, and the cops didn't care if some little boy was shooting at pigeons for target practice. My dad used to have a couple of old rifles from the 21st century. By the time I was nine, I could fieldstrip one and put it back together with my eyes closed. When I was fifteen, I joined a gang: The Tenth Street Reds. My mom was dead and my dad was too drunk to care. Since alcohol couldn't kill him, his driving did. He died in a driving accident when I was sixteen, and I was on the streets. You know, the funny thing was that I actually knew Shepard back when she ran with the Reds. I didn't see her much, but when I did she was always flinging stuff around with her biotics. You didn't see that many biotics running around Earth back then, so I always thought it was pretty cool that we had a biotic in our gang.

One day, there was a gang war. My crew happened to be right in the middle of our street when the shooting started. Half of my crew were gunned down immediately, and the rest of us huddled down in a broken ice cream truck on the corner of tenth street. The Reds came and suddenly the entire street was a warzone. I saw Shepard blasting people away with her biotics; she was just flying through the street.

Then the Alliance came. Out of nowhere, soldiers started pouring into the street, bagging and tagging everyone. A group of them came up to our truck and cuffed us. They stuffed us in trucks and drove off. Shepard was holding some of them off with her biotics, but they got her in the end. It was the last time I ever saw her.

I fell asleep in the truck while they were still transporting us. I woke up in a chair facing some Alliance officer across a table. I started freaking out, but then one of the soldiers behind me calmed me down by whacking me with his gun. The officer told me that I was in a situation and that I had two options: go to jail for some amount of years, or join the military and straighten up. I didn't want to go into the military, but I had heard some bad things about prison, so I chose to join the army.

I found that I liked it. You know, after you got past the hard training, the food, and the small amount of sleep. Eventually, I was promoted to Sergeant and I began leading men. It's been routine moving up through the ranks. I stopped at Captain when they offered to transfer me into the 103rd Marine Division. I went through some crazy shit the first few months. Fighting pirates, shooting my way out of Omega, stopping colonial insurgencies; the whole nine yards. Later, I commanded my own squad. It's the same squad you see here now. I went back to Earth for shore leave, you know. Look how that turned out."

Coats frowned. "You left for shore leave with your armor and weapons?"

"I actually never made it that far. I was packing my things on the ship when the Reapers attacked. I went outside, and started helping with evacuations nearby."

"The rest of Romeo detachment came with you?"

"The entire ship was on mandatory shore leave for ship repairs. Of course, at that time we had nearly one hundred soldiers on that cruiser. Now we have less than thirty."

"How did you meet Anderson?"

"He was at an evacuation post when I met him. I told him that he should get to the Vancouver Alliance Military Command while I held off the husks on the ground. He said that he would stay until every civilian in the city was evacuated."

Clark chuckled. "But enough about me. What's your story?"

Anderson arrived the instant Coats opened his mouth. "Major Coats. Captain Clark. Come over here. We have a problem."

"What is it, sir?" Coats said, walking in front of the screens. The shuttle captains were present again.

"Captains," announced Anderson. "I have an important piece of intelligence to deliver to you all. In the last 45 minutes, we have received word that the Reapers have decimated the Las Vegas airport. There are no confirmed survivors. All remaining units outside the city have been warned to avoid venturing in a fifty-mile radius of the city."

"So much for that plan," Captain Parks said.

"There's more. An Alliance military convoy traveled through Los Angeles one hour ago. Only one vehicle reported back to Alliance Command. There have also been numerous confirmed sightings of Reaper ground forces inside and around the city. It's safe to say that Los Angeles is not a safe zone."

"So that means…" said Captain Ferrell.

"…that means that we'll have to make a move on the cellular tower," Anderson finished. "We need to send a small team into the tower to make the message. Anything bigger might attract the Reapers' attention."

"The rest of the shuttles should stay in a secure location until the team has completed the goal," said Captain Ferrell."

"We can regroup at Fort Hannover," said Anderson. "But we still need a team."

"I nominate the 103rd Marines," said Captain Parks, adjusting his lapels. "They'll get it done, no matter what it takes."

Anderson nodded. "I agree. But, I also want to send in Major Coats with your marines. He's one of the best damn soldiers we have, and you're going to need him."

Captain Parks nodded, and the admiral turned to face Coats. "If he consents."

Coats nodded. "Yes, sir."

Anderson turned back to the screens. "Do we have an agreement?"

The captains nodded. Unanimous. "Good. Then here's what I have in mind."

**Sorry that I was unable to make this chapter as long as the previous one (it's actually half the size)! Don't worry; the next chapter will definitely be a big one. SPOILER alert! It includes an elevator fight scene! Sorry, couldn't help it! Thank you guys for reading, and please review!**


	4. Chapter 4: The Message

**The First Seven Days**

**The Message**

"Alpha team in position. ETA five minutes, tops. Checking in, one."

"Right behind you, Alpha. Bravo team in position. Checking in, two."

"Charlie team in position. We are in the air and ready to support. Checking in three."

"Gang's all here. Stay in contact, and stay alert. Overlord, check for hostiles."

"Negative, Alpha. Storm's blowing any scanners we have out to hell. Recon is minimal. We'll notify if something shows up."

"Copy that, Overlord. Keep us posted."

Major Coats edged forward, his boot making a slight _squish _as it sank inches into the mud. The rain, a slight drizzle, dripped steadily onto Alpha team as the soldiers trudged through the woods surrounding the cellular tower. Lightning flashed, and thunder _boomed _overhead. Along with the _patter _of the rain, Coats could scarcely hear anything save for his own breathing. That alone was enough to keep his finger on the trigger of his rifle.

"Tower's in sight," said Captain Clark, peering up. The tower loomed over the surrounding wood, jutting high over the earth. "Structure analysis indicates that there's a service elevator in the center of the tower. Alpha team takes the elevator to the top, and Bravo team stays on the ground to cover our back. Alpha team uploads the message, broadcasts it, and Charlie team flies in for pickup. Let's keep it high and tight, gentlemen, I don't want to lose anybody today."

"Hang on," Krogh said, stopping suddenly. The team froze. He looked around, grunted, and then lowered his rifle. "Nothing. I thought I saw something."

The team resumed its march, albeit a bit more slowly and cautiously. Coats resisted the urge to wipe the front of his helmet, knowing it would only smear the visor. The mud underneath his boots impeded his movement slightly, just enough so that Coats would notice the extra effort it took to take a step. _In a combat situation, it would be a nightmare running through this marsh. Not to mention the other factors. Low visibility, dense surroundings, noisy rain. All the hallmarks of an ambush. I'm surprised we haven't been jumped yet. If we can just make it to the field…_

"Bravo team," Coats said into his mike. "Run a sweep.'

There was a pause, and then, "Negative contacts, Alpha. Not even animal life."

"Roger that."

"Holy shit," said Captain Clark. "Bravo team, alert. Overlord, we've sighted the Reaper."

Five heads swiveled towards the indicated Reaper. The familiar cuttlefish-shaped figure loomed over the earth in the distance. Overlord had pegged the alien ship as the only Reaper in fifty miles. Even this far away, Coats couldn't help but feel dwarfed by the monstrous ship.

"Calm down," he said, never keeping his eyes away from the tower. "If we stay quiet and stay under cover, it won't notice us."

"Charlie team, stay out of range," said Clark. "If that thing notices you, it's all over. Approach for emergency evac only."

"Copy that, Alpha team."

The woods surely covered the special ops team from view, but it also covered everything else from view. Over the years, Coats had developed a hair-trigger mentality. Some would call Coats paranoid, analyzing every threat in the room before venturing into the bar. He had enough experience under his belt that almost every time someone underestimated a situation he died. In his mindset, he identified a situation, ran through a laundry list of possible actions, predicted the outcome of an action, selected a solution, and executed it. It was due to that experience that Coats noticed a slight _crunch_ five meters to their right, uncharacteristically loud because of his audio sensors, which were tuned to pick up wavelengths different from the most common wavelengths: the _crunch_.

Coats swung his rifle towards the invisible foe. "Emilia. Five meters to our right. Check distance."

Emilia peered through her scope. Even in the darkness, her motion-detecting scope could still pick out movement in the woods. A vaguely outlined figure passed momentarily through her scope, but it was enough to raise the alarm. "Guys," said Emilia, pulling back the bolt of her rifle. "We've got movement."

Officer Daniel's omni-tool suddenly flashed, blinking bright orange. Red circles dotted the holographic interface, slowly closing in on their position. "We've got a _lot _of movement," he said. "Maybe they're friendlies?"

"Funny," said Clark, bringing his gun to bear. "Very funny."

Even through the rain, Coats could hear the telltale moaning of the approaching husks. "Overlord, we've encountered hostiles. And it's raining harder."

"Get to the tower as fast as you can."

"Bravo team, hostiles active," said Clark, breaking into a run.

"Everyone, guns up!" Coats yelled, rolling his scope to the side of the gun. _I'm not going to be using that here. _"Get to the tower! Move it!"

The first husk burst through the bushes, howling as it closed in on the soldiers. Clark's gun flashed brightly, smashing the husk into atoms with a burst from his gun. Coats swung the rifle behind his back and drew his pistol, activating the mounted light. The beam painted a small circle onto the surrounding forest. Coats took a step forward and winced as the mud released his boot with a _squelch. _

_Shit. That'll be the end of us. Got to find stable ground. _

"Alpha team, find higher ground!" said Coats, feeling his way through the marsh. "We're dead if they catch us in this mud!"

Coats heard someone curse behind him. Coats stepped forward, and the mud caught his foot in a vicelike grip, sticking to him like glue. He took aim and fired his pistol near his foot, scorching the marsh and freeing his foot. His light passed over a piece of stable-looking ground to his left.

"Guys, move to the right," Coats yelled, muffled by the crackling thunder overhead. He cursed and switched to his mike. "Alpha team, move to the right. Solid ground."

Another set of footsteps joined theirs, and Coats looked ahead to see husks advancing towards them, hands outstretched menacingly. He fired three times, drilling through each husks' head. Their bodies collapsed in the mud and began to slowly sink through the earth. Coats cursed and stepped forward, finally finding purchase with his left foot. More husks could be heard moaning behind the squad. Coats looked ahead and saw a pinprick of light penetrating the dense foliage. He fired once, then twice through the bush, tearing away several branches. The light broke through.

The path to the tower was clear now. Bright lights lit the field below the tower, suffusing through the forest. "Everyone run for it!" Clark yelled.

_Just across the wide open space, is it? _Coats entered the clearing, and looked around. _Great. Exactly what we needed. _

They had made it to the bottom of the tower, but they weren't alone. Husks darted across the field, sprinting for the approaching group of soldiers. A husk rushed towards Coats from the right, and as he squared it in his sights the husk's head suddenly exploded. Its body tripped and rolled forward, coming to a rest behind Coats. Bravo team entered the clearing, guns blazing. "Go!" shouted Captain Parks, slashing one of the husks with his knife. "We'll cover you!"

It was suddenly a mad dash for the tower. Coats's legs pumped in rhythm, moving mechanically and surely towards the tower door. Another husk dashed in front of Coats, and he cut the creature in half with a slash from his omni-blade. He withdrew the blade and held out his pistol, firing behind him and his squad as he reached the front door. Coats grabbed the doorknob with one hand and wrenched open the door, still firing at the nearing husks. "Get in, let's go! Let's go!"

Clark rushed in, then Krogh, then Emilia, and soon everyone was inside. Captain Parks was the last to enter, slamming the door shut with a bangand blasting the door knob clean off. There was a rhythmic thumpbehind the door as the husks threw themselves against the metal surface, threatening to knock it down. Coats holstered his pistol and addressed the two teams.

"Listen up," Coats said. "The mission is still on track. Alpha team will take the elevator to the top of the tower and upload the broadcast message to the tower's systems. Bravo team will bunker down here and hold the building. Once the message is sent, Charlie team will fly in for pickup. Alpha team, in the elevator! We're moving!"

"Bravo team, find some cover!" Captain Parks ordered, tipping over one of the desks. The barrel of his gun rested on the lip of the table, aimed at the door. "Once the husks break through that door, hell will break loose. Quaid, block those stairs! Jackson, lock the elevators!"

The banging against the door intensified, as if responding to Parks. The door began to dent, crumpling against the force of the husks.

"Our objective, no matter the cost, is to make sure those husks don't get to Alpha team while they upload that message."

The hinges creaked, straining to keep the door upright. The top hinge snapped off, rolling onto the ground.

"Not a single husk makes it up those stairs!"

The middle hinge dropped to the floor.

"We hold the line!"

The last hinge fell to the ground.

The elevator couldn't be slower. At a snail's pace Alpha team ascended the tower, traveling less than a foot every second. "You've got to be shitting me," said Emilia, hitting her fist against the glass window. "This is slower than a Citadel elevator."

"It's an old tower," Krogh said. "Hardly anyone uses cell anymore. We're lucky the elevator hasn't broken down entirely. Otherwise, we'd have to try our luck with the stairs. Odds are, those are probably worse."

"At least we have a view," said Emilia, waving her hand at the window. Lightning thundered overhead, and the rain came down even harder, pounding against the elevator like hammers. Coats could still hear the husks as they ran towards the lobby. _Hope they can keep them off our backs. _

The elevator shook slightly, and then violently shuddered, halting momentarily before sluggishly making its way to the top again. _Hope we can keep them off the elevator. _

"Think it's a problem?" said Clark, aiming at the service latch on the ceiling.

"We're not rookies anymore, captain," the major said, donning his helmet and yanking the latch open, loosing howling winds into the elevator. "We're not allowed to assume anything. But we can make sure."

Coats hoisted himself to the top of the elevator, one hand grasping an extending bar for support on the roof. He twisted his head up, and suddenly a husk was staring him in the face.

Coats didn't have time to think; his omni-blade flashed behind him and flew into the husk's chest, caving in its blue core. The husk screeched and Coats flung him off the elevator. "I think we've got company!" Coats said into the mike, magnetizing his boot onto the elevator. A steady hum filled the air and soon he was standing on top of the elevator, bracing himself against the rain and wind. "I could use some up here!"

"Coming up!" Clark joined him, and soon they were both standing on the roof. The rain had gotten even worse; a dense curtain of water was pouring down in sheets, and the wind was a gale-force storm that threatened to blow them right off. The rain seemed to plaster itself against Coats's helmet, leaving him with a strange watery covering over his visor that distorted his vision. He was lucky that the helmet kept the wind from buffeting his face. Despite the ascending elevator, Coats felt like he was being lifted off the roof.

Clark peered over the edge of the elevator and blasted the side of the elevator with his rifle, tearing the husk away from the lift. Coats, omni-blade in one hand and pistol in the other, stood in the middle of the elevator, ready. "You know, I've fought in a lot of places," yelled Clark. "But I don't think I've ever fought on top of an elevator."

"You haven't been around enough then," Coats responded as he shot another husk off the roof. "I've fought on top of shuttles, on the sides of trains, on the sides of buildings."

"I've fought on the side of the building before," protested Clark, burst-firing another husk into oblivion.

"This building was _falling down_."

"Shit."

"Hell, I've even fought hanging off a shuttle with a cord and a hook. I think it was at that point that I became a veteran."

"Those must have been some crazy tours."

"No, this all happened in one mission."

"Where was this?"

Coats severed a husk's head from his body with a slash from his blade. "Atlanta."

"Damn," said Clark. "What the hell was that mission like?"

"You don't want to know," Coats grunted. "It was—"

The elevator stopped. The lift groaned, as if bearing a great weight, and then it began to descend. "Why are we going _down_?" Coats yelled into the elevator.

"No clue!" Emilia yelled back. "I think something might be weighing it down!"

"Captain!" said Coats, clipping himself to the edge of the elevator. "I'm going to check the bottom of the lift. Keep the top cleared of husks!"

"Roger that." Coats deactivated his mag boots and rappelled down the elevator, coming to a stop at the very edge of the bottom of the lift. He turned on his gun light.

A skull stared back at him. Not a human skull. Its eyes glowed bright blue in the darkness, highlighting a particularly gruesome scar on the right side of his face. The monster roared at the brightness of the light and swung its great arm at him. Coats swung to the side and narrowly dodged the creature's bladed fist as it raked the edge of the elevator. Coats's pistol spat at the colossal husk creature, but he might as well have been hitting it with a stuffed animal for all the damage it did. The light moved from its horrible head to its other arm, which it was using to grab hold of the lift. _So that's it._

Coats switched to his rifle and unloaded the clip into its arm. Some of the armored plating chipped off, but the arm still firmly clung to the side of lift. The beast roared, and swung at him again, this time clipping his chest armor, leaving a deep gouge in the toughened polymer. _Well, that's not going to work. _

Coats retracted the cord and hung onto the side of the elevator. "Clark," Coats yelled into the mike. "We've got a straggler down here. A _big_ one. Take a grenade, count to three, and let it drop."

Three seconds later, a dark, round object dropped from above Coats and fell a few feet below him before exploding, loosing a bright orange fireball that burned the soles of his boots. The husk creature screeched, and Coats felt the lift shudder as the beast released it. The elevator began to slowly rise again.

"Damn, what the hell was that?" shouted Clark as Coats climbed back on the elevator.

"Some husk creature," Coats responded. "Not human. Never seen anything like it before in my life."

"There are a lot of things I've seen this week that I've never seen before!" said Clark. "It looked kind of like a krogan."

"Looked like a turian to me," Coats said.

"Major!" Coats ventured to the service latch and saw Krogh and Daniel wrestling with a husk. The husks screeched and Krogh kicked the creature through the open door. "We've got husks crawling up the lift!"

"Tell me something I don't know! Hold them off, we're busy up here too!"

He nearly fell off as the elevator rocked, throwing a ray of sparks over the side of the lift. "You want to see who's right?" Clark yelled.

"What the hell is that?" Emilia shouted up.

"It's a husk. A big one. Stick to the sides of the elevator!"

"Got it!"

The elevator shook again, and the husk creature appeared on the opposite side of the lift, facing the tower. It roared and smashed its fist against the elevator roof, caving in part of the metal. Coats emptied his pistol into the beast and tossed it aside.

"Krogh, give me your shotgun!"

"Going up." The shotgun flew up and Coats grabbed it deftly out of the air, quickly pumping the remaining shells into the husk. The monster screeched and faltered, moving back an inch. Clark charged up his rifle and sprayed the beast at full power. The husk dodged the fire and moved with frightening speed towards Coats. He jumped back and the husk beat its arm against his chest with the force of a train, throwing him to the side of the elevator. _I'm going to feel that in…hell, I'm going to feel that now. _

Coats gasped for breath, and pushed himself up on shaky arms. He could hear Clark fighting the beast in the background, staccato shotgun blasts interrupted intermittently with inhuman roars. _That's not going to be enough to stop that thing. We need bigger guns. _Coats looked dizzily into the sky, and saw the Reaper in the distance, still ominously close to the tower. _This counts as an emergency. _

"Charlie Team! We've encountered enemy…armor on the lifts! Requesting immediate fire support over here!"

"This is against protocol, sir. The Reaper will notice—

"We're about to die if you don't assist immediately! We'll send the message, no matter what happens next!"

"…yes, sir."

The air suddenly filled with a steady hum as the two shuttles closed in on the tower, buffeting Coats with wind. The husk creature roared at the shuttles, and Charlie team deployed its fire mission. "Deploying PKRs," the shuttle PA system crackled. "Recommend safe distance."

"Clark, down!" Coats dove at Clark, ignoring the stab of pain from his right leg. He tackled the captain and they slid into the service latch, landing onto the elevator floor. Not a moment later, there was a gust of wind and a surge of heat as the top of the lift lit up in a fiery explosion. The creature screeched, and Coats felt the elevator groan in relief as its weight lifted from the elevator. The lift creaked and strained underneath the stress of the explosion. _I'm a few tax credits away from plummeting to my death in an elevator. And I still have time to think about it._

The roar died, and Coats blinked once, taking in the silence that filled the room after the explosion had dissipated. Then he remembered the situation, sitting up suddenly. "Lieutenant," Coats said, feeling the ache in his side as he took each breath. _Probably a sprained rib. Manageable. It's probably not a good sign that I know what's manageable and what's not. _"Are we close to the top?"

"One floor left," Krogh responded, helping him to his feet. Behind him, Clark struggled to his feet, bracing himself against the wall.

"The moment those doors open, get to the console. Stick the OSD into its port, and let the chip do its work. Disable all the other tower functions if you have to. Just leave power to the lights and the broadcast. We won't have much time."

"Why?" said Emilia. "Those things aren't getting up here anytime soon."

"If you recall," Clark groaned, holding his side. "we just blew up the side of this tower. The Reaper's going to notice. It's probably on its way here right now."

Coats brought his omni-tool to head height. "Overlord, what's the Reaper's current position?"

Silence. "The Reaper is on the move, heading approximately fifty kilometers an hour. And it's getting faster. Whatever you did over there, you've got its attention. ETA approximately ten minutes."

"Charlie team, dock shuttle one at the top of the tower. The Reaper's noticed us anyway. Have shuttle two stay near the tower."

"Copy that, Alpha team."

The elevator suddenly jolted. The doors slid open, revealing a dimly lit hallway and a set of terminals at the end of the corridor. To the right, there was a door labeled maintenance. Emilia ran forward, slipping the OSD into her hand as she hurried to the terminal. She reached the console and inserted the OSD into its port. "It's in," she announced.

"We're not in the clear yet," said Coats, staggering towards the console. "Divert all the power to the primary systems. Charlie team, have you docked?"

"We're right overhead," said the captain. "Just open the maintenance door."

Krogh snapped the lock off the rusted door and wrenched it open. The wind howled inside the hallway and rain flew into the room, buffeting everything on the floor. Coats felt like he was floating into the air. The shuttle flew into view, coming to a rest on the outside walkway. "Ready to go whenever the message's been sent," said the captain.

"Emilia, what's the status on that upload?" said Coats, turning to the console.

"We still have a few minutes to go," replied Emilia. "It's still—

An ear-splitting droning sound cracked the air, driving Coats to the ground. The sound crackled for a few more seconds, and then stopped. "What the _hell _was that?" said the captain after a moment.

"It's the Reaper," breathed Clark, gripping his side tightly. "It's here."

Clark brought his omni-tool up. "Charlie team, the Reaper is here. Stay out of range!"

"That's a negative, Alpha. We're going to buy you some time. Charlie out."

"Damn it, Charlie! Hang back!"

"Leave it, Alpha," interjected Overlord. "Your mission is to upload that message."

"And we'll get it done too," said Coats, hobbling to the walkway. The wind seemed to be blowing even harder, nearly blinding him as he stepped onto the metal floor. He looked out to the distance and saw the battle beginning to unfold.

The shuttle captain looked on grimly as the aircraft neared the ancient starship. The Reaper immediately took notice, turning to face the shuttle. "Open the doors!" the captain yelled. "I want every gun we have firing at that Reaper!"

The door slid open, and the door gunner began firing upon the Reaper. Above them, the roof-mounted machine gun roared to life, spraying thousands of armor-piercing rounds at the starship, each bullet flying a fraction of the speed of light. Beneath them, the shuttle belly-mounted cannons began firing shells at the Reaper, bombarding the black surface with heavy incendiary explosives.

The Reaper impassively flew on.

"We're not even getting the damn thing's attention," the shuttle captain cursed. "Neals, give him the Big Boy."

The "Big Boy" was a colloquial term for the 2-kiloton explosive that shuttles were equipped with to combat more powerful enemy vehicles. Big Boys were a combat shuttle's defense against deep-space fighters in the event that the shuttle faced such an enemy. Their main strength lay in penetrating kinetic barriers, generating an explosion with the maximum amount of surface area to deplete enemy shielding. Now, thousands of combat analysis programs and targeting computer interfaces scanned the Reaper shell for weak points to deploy the missile. After a few agonizing seconds, the shuttle VI identified a section underneath the Reaper's main gun. The shuttle pilot confirmed the missile launch.

The missile ejected out of the shuttle, shooting directly towards the ground before pulling upwards in an extreme arc, curving towards the Reaper. The missile slowly righted itself until it faced its target. The missile detached its initial thrusters and engaged its secondary thrusters to achieve maximum flight velocity.

The Big Boy hit the Reaper at three times the speed of sound. The explosion flashed white in a superheated cloud of fire as the Big Boy ravaged the starship's shields. The explosion enveloped the bottom of the Reaper, covering its main gun in smoke. The shuttle flew high above the Reaper in preparation for another attack.

"Start raining hell over—" The Reaper roared, its tentacles spreading out towards the shuttle. For a split second, the captain froze. The pilot felt like his heart stopped as the ancient starship reared its weapon. The red glow appeared in its main gun, and within seconds the gun fired, shooting a deadly red beam towards the shuttle.

The shuttle seemed to be a white speck amidst the vast form of the Reaper. The shuttle appeared to flash blue, but then Coats realized that it was the flash of the shuttle gun. There was a white flash below the Reaper, and Coats thought he could hear a distant _boom_. The Reaper roared its horrible drone and turned to face the shuttle. The Reaper's tentacles spread wide and the horrifying red glow appeared in its main gun. The beam shot out of the gun, carving scars into the surrounding landscape as the Reaper swung its deadly payload towards the shuttle. The shuttle avoided the beam, feigning left and right and dropping suddenly to avoid another sweep of the beam. The beam faded away, and the shuttle resumed its attack on the Reaper.

"Captain, get away from that Reaper!" yelled Major Coats into the mike.

"We can't do that, Major," the captain relied with absolute resolution. "We have to get that message into the air. It's the only hope any—

The Reaper's tentacles closed around the shuttle and in one second its main gun fired its deadly beam, instantly incinerating the shuttle. Coats looked down, ramming his fist against the metal railing. He barely felt it. The Reaper roared again, shaking the foundations of the tower and resuming its path to the cell tower.

"Alpha team, that Reaper is within a mile of your position! Is the message sent?"

"It's almost ready!" Clark yelled. "Any second now!"

"You're out of time, Alpha. Get the hell out of there now!"

"Roger that," said Coats, switching the caller on his omni-tool. "Charlie squad, extract Bravo, then pick us up. The message will be sent by then."

"Everyone else," yelled Coats, turning around. "On the walkway! We move as soon as that shuttle gets—

"Can't do that, Alpha," replied Captain Parks.

"What?" Coats said in disbelief. "Bravo team, either get up here or wait for pickup. Charlie team's coming in."

"There's no time. Get out of there."

The shuttle doors opened and the shuttle captain stood on the lip of the floor, shouting. "Everyone in! Now!"

"No, we can't do that!" yelled Coats. "Just pick up Bravo and come back here—

"There's no time!" said Overlord. "Go now!"

"We can still save them! The data's been sent!"

"It's too late, Major Coats!"

"We can't leave them ag—

"The Reaper is within _firearm _range! Get on the damn shuttle, Major; that's an order!"

Krogh rushed past Coats, carrying Captain Clark fireman-style. Daniel and Kevin helped the captain onto the shuttle as Coats stood at the railing, gripping the metal so tightly the knuckles on his hand were bone-white. "Major," said Emilia, putting her hand on his shoulder. She didn't look at him. "We need to go!"

"Aye, aye," replied Coats, and boarded the shuttle. Soon, everyone was aboard.

"Set the coordinates for—" the captain began.

The Reaper roared again, deafening everyone in the shuttle. The Reaper appeared overhead, tentacles spread wide over the tower. "Just set it anywhere! Move!"

The shuttle shot forward, narrowly escaping the Reaper as the beam struck the tower, reducing to the top levels of the tower to ashes in seconds. The tower began collapsing, and the Reaper set itself on top of the tower, burning the remaining level of the tower. Coats felt the shuttle shake violently, but he was barely paying attention as the monstrous ship attacked the tower. The Reaper barely seemed to notice the shuttle as it quickly rose through the air, content with burning the cell tower. Then the shuttle was out of its reach, flying out towards the horizon.

"Keep holding them off!"

Another husk exploded, splattering across the floor and adding to the sea of bodies in the lobby. Another one of his men was struck down by horde of cannibals as they unloaded on him. Captain Parks stood behind the charred counter, firing every bullet he had into the cannibals until his rifle at last ran out of ammunition. As he switched to his pistol, the tower began to shake and an ear-deafening drone reverberated throughout the lobby, driving Parks and his men to the floor. As he looked up, past the falling debris and flickering lights, he saw a white shuttle fly into the sunrise, disappearing into the light. A small smile tugged at lips. The husks still came, and Parks stood up again, firing his empty pistol. _For the innocent._ As the husk reached out towards him, he pulled out his knife and cut its head open, spewing out the cybernetics and raw material inside the husk. _For Earth._ Another husk grabbed his shoulders, and he was forced onto his back facing the ceiling. As the husk screeched at him, he looked over its shoulder and looked at the ceiling. The tiles glowed a cherry-red and disappeared in a flash of light. _For all life in the galaxy._

He was still smiling as the last feeling left his body.

Major Coats stood in front of the window of the shuttle, looking through the glass as the Reaper incinerated what had to be the first floor of the tower, where Bravo team had been holding out. He kept staring until Emilia, then the captain, and finally Clark pulled him away from the window, shaking his shoulders. He still stared at the window.

Soon, the Reaper and the tower winked out of view, as if they had never been there at all.

**Pretty dark, huh? It took me a while to write that last scene of Captain Parks and his team, holding out to the bitter end. There's no way Major Coats will save everyone, and I think that reflects the theme in Mass Effect 3. Captain Parks is just one of billions who will die over the course of Mass Effect 3 and the Homefront. And they're all waiting on Shepard, who's probably doing some side missions. Thank you guys so much for reading, and please review! Peace out. **


	5. Chapter 5: A System That Works: Missing

**A System That Works**

**Missing**

Blood dripped from his mouth as he looked up at the batarian. He spat at his feet and grinned weakly, nearly hanging from the grips of two of his captors. Of all the people that could have been his captor, this had to have been the worst possible option. _Or, I guess I could have gotten a krogan. _

"So where the hell are they?" the batarian demanded, prodding his bruised shoulder with the butt of his rifle. "I won't ask nicely next time."

"You're already expecting a next time?" he said, chuckling. "I guess I have a bit longer then."

"_Listen up_," the batarian growled, crouching down to his level and roughly grabbing his collar. "I can dangle you from a cliff over a hole full of husks waiting to rip your brains out. I can have them put a varren in here on a thin leash and see if it'll break free to tear through you. I can—

As the batarian talked, he had slowly reared his head back as if from exhaustion. Now the captive threw his head forward and slammed his forehead against the batarian's face, hearing a satisfying crack from what sounded like the batarian's nose as his interrogator flopped to the ground. Liquid ran down from above his eyes, but he didn't think it was his blood. A krogan stepped from the shadows, casually stepping on the batarian's neck on his way to him. A ragged scar marred the krogan's face, extending from the bottom right of his neck to the top left edge of his plate. The alien held a nasty-looking shotgun in his right hand. He could see the words "Devastator" printed on the side. The krogan stopped directly in front of him.

"He was a pain in the ass anyway," said the krogan nonchalantly, looking down at him. "Let's get to it. Just so you know, I'm a lot harder to kill."

_I did ask for it. _

The scope read "Coats".

It was in small block letters, imprinted near the bottom of the scope. No one could notice the word unless they were close enough and looked at the rifle from below. Not that he would let anyone get close enough to read his name.

Coats rubbed the inside of the barrel with a small cloth, making sure to scrape off the accumulated dust that had built up inside the long barrel. The light from the windows was so dim it barely helped him locate the dust. He sat there absentmindedly, picking at the inside of the gun barrel. He could hear the captain and the pilot in the cockpit.

"How far are we from Fort Hannover?"

"We'll arrive within the half hour, captain. Less if we don't have to dodge any Reapers."

"Have you managed to contact Admiral Anderson or any of the other captains?"

"No, sir."

"Keep trying. Keep me posted."

"Yes, sir."

"So how are you holding up, sir?" said Clark, sitting against the wall next to him.

"I'm fine," replied Coats, removing the cloth and slipping it into his back pocket. "I'm just…thinking. Though I should really be asking you that question."

"I'll be fine. It's just a few bruised ribs. Nothing I haven't seen before."

"Yeah." Coats resumed cleaning his rifle. Clark waited a minute, and then asked.

"What happened back there?"

Coats didn't stop cleaning. "What?"

"You don't have a problem with what happened back there anymore? What are you thinking about now?"

"I don't like leaving people behind," replied the major stoically. "And I've accepted the fact that we had to. That's all."

Clark paused. "I don't think so. Major, what—

"Captain!"

Clark immediately stood up, followed by Coats. He noticed the shuttle began to descend, the air pressure lessening on his ears. "What's going on?" said Clark, stepping to the pilot's side.

"We're being hailed down. Incoming transmission."

The speaker hissed with static, and then it began to clear up into recognizable sounds. "Shuttle, land now! There are Reaper forces in the area."

"Who are you?" demanded Clark.

"A friend. Now land before you attract even more!"

Coats stepped to the shuttle door. "Marines, get ready. We're landing in a hot zone."

"Taking fire, Major Coats. Whatever you're doing, do it fast!"

Coats released the door gun, rolling it in front of the door. Captain Clark stood at the side, rifle ready. Coats signaled to Krogh, and the door opened.

Below them, men in blue armor were bunkered down behind a hastily constructed barricade, shooting at an advancing line of cannibals. The husks looked up at the approaching shuttle and suddenly lobbed grenades at them, one landing at Clark's feet. He kicked it off and began firing at the husks. Coats activated the door gun, shredding the cannibals with armor-piercing rounds. The organic armor of the husks held briefly before crumbling beneath the roar of the door gun. The men below moved forward, driving the cannibals back with the aid of the shuttle fire. A few of the husks leaped at the shuttle in hopes of climbing aboard. Clark shot a few rounds at them to keep them off the shuttle.

The husks began to clear out, retreating to the debris field beyond the barricade. Krogh jumped off the shuttle as it neared the ground, pumping a few shells at the cannibals. Emilia and the Carson brothers followed, shooting at the fleeing husks.

Soon, the Reaper forces were out of sight. The men in blue armor approached cautiously as the shuttle landed, keeping their guns within reach. A somber-looking man wielding a pistol stepped forward to meet Coats.

"Thanks for the help," he said, still breathing hard. "I'd shake your hand, but under the current circumstances I'll opt out."

Coats nodded in agreement. "I'm Systems Alliance Major Coats, head of the Alpha company of the Vancouver 22nd garrison."

"Captain Koom." The man squinted, looking behind Coats. _He never said captain of what. _It was then the major noticed a picture of a blue sun tattooed into the man's neck. _So it's Blue Suns. I wonder what they're doing in Fort Hannover? It's been shut down for years. _

"Is this all of you?" said the Blue Suns mercenary, frowning.

"We've got another shuttle inbound," said Coats, jerking his thumb behind him. Sure enough, a shuttle appeared from behind one of the buildings, decelerating as it neared the barricades. "What are the Blue Suns doing here in Fort Hannover?" Coats inquired.

The man's expression darkened for a fraction of a second. "The Blue Suns have temporarily taken refuge in Fort Hannover in light of the war," said the man, as if he was a reciting a memo. "None of the enemy starships seem to occupy this area, so we thought it would be a good location to bunker down in. It's not exactly a conspicuous town." He gestured to the city. Beyond the city's eastern border, a vast desert stretched onward to the horizon.

"Once the shuttle has touched down, take them under," said the captain, walking away. One of the masked mercenaries nodded, and hailed the shuttle down. Captain Norman stepped into view, approaching the Blue Suns cautiously. "Officer," the mercenary said. "Follow us. Our commanding officer would like to speak with you all."

Captain Norman looked ready to object, but Major Coats shook his head and followed the mercenaries. He noticed that they kept one mercenary behind all of them. _Insurance. After all, they are hired guns. They watch each other. _Another squad of mercenaries hustled past them, huddling behind the barricades.

As they were walking, Coats took the time to look around. On the west side of the town, a towering obelisk of rock loomed over them, casting a blanketing shadow on the town. _That's Fort Hannover. I can't exactly see anything on the mountain. Maybe it was torn down?_ Aside from the various piles of rubble littered around the town, most of the area was intact. The buildings were rusted, but their frames were still sturdy. _This place looks as if the Reapers haven't even touched it. But it looks like they're used to fighting husks. That captain never told us what the Blue Suns were doing in a small desert town like this. We better get some answers from their leader. _

They passed by a row of houses, arranged like a row of barracks. Each house was square in shape and the windows had a small depression around an arm's length in the center of the windows. _These windows look like gun ports. Was this a military town? _The front door of one of the houses was slightly ajar, swaying slighting in the desert wind. Coats peered inside the house; most of the houses were empty, devoid of anything except for a few furnishings. _The entire town looks abandoned._

Coats's pondering was startled by a sudden noise. They were standing in front of the base of the mountain. The ground ahead of them slid away, revealing a smooth metal door. The mercenary pressed something on his omni-tool, and the door slid open. A staircase stretched out into a dimly lit corridor, underground. The hallway was empty.

"Follow me," said the mercenary, stepping below ground. The soldiers entered cautiously, hands on their weapons. Coats had developed a sense of caution during his tenure as a soldier, and for some reason this place didn't seem to strike a chord. The merc rounded a corner at the end of the hallway. It was an elevator. He stepped into the elevator—_more like a lift, really_—and they followed him inside.

"Once we arrive at our designation, you will go through a security check," the mercenary explained as the doors closed. Coats felt weight being pressed down on him as the elevator accelerated upwards. "After that, you will see the Commander."

_So Fort Hannover is inside of the mountain. _Coats glanced at the mercenary. For a hired gun, he was well disciplined, standing straight and speaking with an informal but structured tone. His hands remained at his sides, but there was a coiled power to his movements, as if he was expecting a battle at any moment. _I know that feeling well. It's what keeps you alive out there on the battlefield. _

Coats inspected the mercenary's armor. It looked like the standard Blue Suns armor set, but he could detect the few critical changes when the man stood next to the other mercenaries. His chest plates were thicker than average and he had extra shoulder pads. His gloves were designed differently, with black pads on his knuckles. The mercenary hadn't used it yet, but Coats could see the tangible kinetic barrier projectors dotted across his armor. His helmet mouthpiece was grated, and a single visor stretched in front of his eyes instead of the standard two eyepieces. His knees were covered with kneepads. In the center of his helmet above the visor, there was a small white hammer symbol embedded in the plating. He carried a shotgun on his back.

_Well he's definitely not an infiltrator. Not a rookie, either. _The mercenary's chest was marred with gouges and scratches of various origins. His helmet was slightly dented on its right side. Unlike his men's blackened and worn armor, the mercenary's armor set was well cared for.

Coats's inspection was cut short as the elevator stopped. The doors open, and they were inside Fort Hannover.

The inside of the military base was that of a war zone camp. The elevator opened to a round meeting room with a table in the center. There were two adjacent hallways to the sides of the room. Mercenaries and what looked like refugees sat around the room in various stages of productivity. Some were eating colored ration bars. One mercenary was polishing his rifle with tender care. Another group of refugees was trading food for weapons with a bored-looking mercenary.

Coats looked around the room. Crates of thermal clips and ammunition blocks were present everywhere, haphazardly stacked around the room. There were tents, actual cloth tents, pitched atop pieces of ragged-looking cloth lying on the ground. A few people were sorting out what looked like a pile of junk in the corner of the room, looking for anything they could salvage. Everything looked scuffed and held together by spit and prayers.

The Blue Suns, on the other hand, looked relatively kempt. A few were patrolling the outside of the room, guns at the ready for anyone who got out of hand. The masked mercenary walked off to the right, and they followed him, still surveying the scene. They exited the room through another door.

_Left, right, right, stairs up, then left. _As they neared a set of particularly ornate wooden doors, another group of Blue Suns mercenaries passed by them.

"New ones…"

"Better not…"

"The Commander…"

They passed. The masked man stopped in front of the doors and turned to face them. "This is our Commander's office. Once inside, you'll listen and do as he says. The first sign of trouble, and we will eject you from the premises and leave you to fend off the husks by yourselves. Enter now."

Major Coats, Captain Clark, and Captain Norman stepped forward, followed by Emilia, Krogh, and the rest of the soldiers. Two of the mercenaries suddenly appeared behind the officers, blocking the door from the rest of the marines. The masked man looked unperturbed.

"Officers only," he stated. The marines grumbled in disappointment. Emilia looked furious, but Coats cut her off with a nod. _Whatever's necessary. It'll be good to finally get some answers. _

The doors opened. _This is a really nice office. _An actual wool rug lay on the floor, silencing the impact of their boots against the floor as they moved to the center of the room. Abstract paintings lined the walls. Before them, a dark-haired man wearing Blue Suns armor was casually typing something on a terminal sitting atop a polished wooden desk. Coats noticed it was the new Tetris Model X20 interface. The man glanced up and stood, towering over Coats. His brown eyes welcomed them, but his mouth tugged at the corners of a cruel mouth. He held himself proudly, yet approached them with subtle caution.

And he was smiling.

"Hello," he said, stepping out from behind the desk. "Please let me introduce myself. I am Vikram Singh, commander of the Blue Suns Echo Detachment here on Earth. I understand you aided my men in repelling an attack from the northern front. I'm very grateful for that."

The commander stretched a hand towards Coats, who took it and shook firmly. Coats silently approved. "Major Coats, Alliance Military."

Clark stepped forward as well. "Captain Clark, head of the 103rd Marine Division Romeo Detachment."

Singh nodded, stepping towards the back of his office. His large eyes probed them, running back and forth between the trio. "I understand you arrived in an evacuation convoy," he began. "Where are the civilians?"

_He's suspicious, _Coats realized. _And why shouldn't he be? We show up armed to teeth in a supposed evacuation vehicles and we more or less ask them to provide us shelter. _

"We were involved in a military operation," replied Coats. _And probably one of the most important and high-stake operations in Earth's history. _"We thought it would be for the best if the civilians remained behind."

"There were others?" inquired the commander.

"They were going to meet us at a rendezvous point around here," explained Coats, carefully leaving out the exact location. "We're unsure where, though. We still need to look for them."

"I see," said Singh, looking at his terminal. He stared at the screen for the longest time. Coats could practically see the wheels turning in his head. Something clicked, and the commander looked up. "You may do so," Singh answered.

"Commander Singh," Coats began. "What are the Blue Suns doing here in Fort Hannover?

The Commander looked at him oddly, and then turned away. ¨Approximately thirty-nine days ago, the Alliance contracted the Blue Suns to deal with an insurgency in the state of Northern Mexico. We arrived and spent several days dispersing and dissolving the rebel group. However, as the Blue Suns moved back to the Alliance Command to collect payment, alien ships began descending from the sky, killing and incinerating everything in sight."

_Sounds like a bedtime story. Only with blood and guns. _"The Blue Suns fled to the safety of this remote town, and from there we discovered the abandoned Alliance base. After days of hiding, we began to look for news of what had happened and search the town and the surrounding area. We also began to find survivors. We took in the refugees and helped them. In return, they helped us collect resources and find more survivors."

Singh looked back at Coats. "Did your superiors tell you what happened?" he said quietly.

"No," said Coats with firmness behind the word. _Can't tell the general population that they're more or less doomed unless everyone in the galaxy agrees to stop them. _

"Very well," replied Singh, sitting down at his desk. "The Blue Suns have been here for more than three weeks. We've formed a system that works."

"However, your arrival here has made some changes necessary."

The commander clasped his hands together. "We're running out of resources, if you could already tell, Major. We've quite recently begun searching around the city and beyond for resources, but until now we haven't had the manpower to risk for large expeditions. Until now."

"If you decide to take up residency here, then you will need to contribute to the well-being of this settlement. We've established a working system, and it's up to the people to provide for the benefit of the whole. Is this clear?"

"Yes, Commander," said Major Coats. _It sounds like you intend for us to work for you rather than work with you. _

"We'll work with you to find your men," said Singh. "Simple as that, Major. If you help me, I'll help you. What do you say?"

Before Coats could respond, the commander cut him off. "Actually, never mind that. I'll give you until tomorrow for your answer. In the mean time, I'll let Officer Mercer escort you to your rooms. Feel free to explore a bit. You'll see me tomorrow morning. If you've accepted my offer, then we can get down to business. I hope your time here is more pleasant than the time you spent outside."

Singh sat back down, sinking back into his terminal again. The helmeted man appeared next to Clark. "Captains. Major. Follow me."

And without another word, they were out the door.

"So Singh wants us to stay here?"

As promised, they had been given a room to stay in for the night. Twenty bunk beds lay neatly arranged in lines across the room, with a bathroom on both ends of the room. "He didn't say that exactly," whispered Coats, looking around for any prying ears "But that's his intent, more or less."

"I think we should just search for Admiral Anderson and the others on our own," said Emilia, picking at the built-up rust on the hilt of her knife. "We don't need help from these mercs."

"Admiral Anderson said that they would regroup at Fort Hannover," said Krogh, walking into the room. "It would make sense that they're at least somewhere around here. I think it would be for the best if we stayed in Fort Hannover with Singh to help."

"If we stay here, we would have to help the mercs," said Kevin. "I don't trust them."

"There's a lot of them," Daniel pointed out. "They could help us."

"Yeah, but they're still mercs!"

"Even if they are mercs, we could use the help!"

"Any help is better than—

"Carsons!" said Captain Clark. "Cool it! I think it would be for the best if we rested right now and decide this in the morning. We're all a bit drained from yesterday."

Everyone slowly nodded. Captain Clark stood up, nodded, and walked to his bunk. Major Coats lay down on his bunk, staring at the ceiling. The entire building seemed quiet, but he was sure that it was only the room that was quiet. The bunks were empty except for the twelve of them.

Coats sighed. _It's going to be a busy day tomorrow, isn't it? Wherever we go, shit happens. But we've got to take it and move on, because otherwise we'd be depressed every day with all the shit that happens. _

_Damn. Now I'm getting depressed. Go to sleep. _


	6. A System That Works: Anticipation

**A System That Works **

**Anticipation**

"You may be used to combat with rules. Out here, there are no rules."

The sound of his boots hitting the metal flooring echoed throughout the room. Every few seconds, another _thunk _punctuated his debriefing.

"There are no front lines. No entrenchments you can fall back to. No reinforcements. Once you go out there, you're on your own for the duration of the salvage. Collect as much as you can during the salvage. Every piece of equipment or can of food you gather is vital to our survival here."

The Commander looked into the center of the room, towards Major Coats in the middle of the crowd. "Now, we do have a coherent chain of command. Everyone should know his or her place here at Fort Hannover. A lieutenant, followed by two appointed sergeants, leads all salvage missions. Everyone else remains under these officers' command. There may be times when a specialist accompanies the salvage mission for a special purpose. If directly related to his purpose, everyone except the lieutenant will obey his orders."

"With the recent increase in numbers, we'll be dividing into groups of seven. Lieutenant Haynes, your two officers will be Sergeant Cameron and Sergeant Kamawura. You'll take with you Major Coats, Captain Clark, Lieutenant Krogh, and Sergeant Guarez. Move into the next room for a full debriefing. Lieutenant…"

The Carson brothers sat in the crowd, watching the four exit the room. The sounds of the debriefing soon faded away as Major Coats entered the next room, stopping in front of the lieutenant, who stood ramrod straight. "Major Coats, Captain Clark, and Sergeant Guarez," said Haynes, face hidden behind his mask. "Despite your previous military ranks, you are expected to follow my orders. I run a tight operation. No detours, no stopping. We get the job done, no matter what happens. Our mission for today is to collect fuel."

A light blue hologram beamed out from his omni-tool, brightening the dim room. A gridded map spanned out in front of Major Coats, with Fort Hannover standing high above the rest of the map in the center. "This is our target," said Haynes, pointing to the blinking green dot in the right hand corner of the map. "Corlus fueling station. It's on the very edge of the city, almost bordering Corleone to the east. Power grid stats indicate that a steady stream of electricity is flowing towards this particular area of the city. It's sizeable amount, enough to keep our shuttles running for months if we fuel for even half of an hour."

"The only problem is the husks," said Sergeant Cameron, zooming in on the map. Small red lights dotted the area around the fueling station.

"We'll take a shuttle to the fueling station and charge as much electricity as we can into these batteries," said the lieutenant, hefting a set of batteries onto the table. "We fill at least ten of these batteries and if it gets too hectic, then we cut our losses and leave. Another group, whose mission is to defend our group as we fuel the batteries, will accompany us. Understood?"

Nods all around. The lieutenant withdrew his omni-tool. "Good. Everyone onto the shuttles."

_There comes a time in every man's life where he must make a decision that will change the course of his life. Decisions like this have no clear right or wrong answers. I must think on this decision before I even make another move. Should I trade all of my dice or just the two? _

Major Coats stared intently at the digital array of dice splayed across the display, weighing his odds of getting a full house. Finally, he swiped the command and scrambled only two of the dice. The shaking dice animation continued for a few more seconds before stopping on the final roll: two pairs of two.

"Full house," announced Coats. "That's the game."

"Damn it!" said Emilia, closing the Yahtzee application. "I was so close! What the hell are the odds that you got a pair from rolling two dice?"

"1 in 200, if I'm not mistaken," said Krogh, watching the game from the corner.

"You just got lucky," grumbled Emilia, scrolling through the history of rolls in the game.

"The entire game is based on luck. I just happen to get it at the very end of the game."

"One more."

"You might not get that chance. I think we're almost there."

Lieutenant Haynes entered the cockpit, looking out beyond the window. Major Coats appeared behind him. "Are we almost there?"

"Not yet," said the lieutenant, scanning the sky ahead of them. "Probably a few more minutes. Bravo team's having some delays."

Major Coats took the chance to look outside. The city was largely intact, though some parts of the city looked more ravaged than the rest. Most of the damage was superficial; for the most part the buildings were intact. The Reapers hadn't even touched the city. _Not that there's much to terrorize here._ The husks, on the other hand, had fanned out all over the city, lurking around every corner Coats could see. Coats thought he saw one of the big husks lumbering about the rooftop of a building. _Big bloody brutes, aren't they? I don't fancy a fight with another one of them again. _

"Bravo's unresponsive," said the lieutenant, backing away from the controls. "Proceeding with the mission. Target is in sight."

Major Coats looked down below. An old, decrepit fueling station sat on the corner of a dusty street, threatening to collapse on itself. There were no husks.

"Take us down quickly. The longer we're here, the more likely we're going to attract some unwanted attention."

The shuttle shuddered involuntarily, as if in response to Lieutenant Haynes. Coats looked up and saw the familiar, horrifying shape of the dragon creature that had attacked him days ago.

"Harvester!" said Lieutenant Haynes. "Take us down, now!"

"A what?" The shuttle dipped down, flying towards the fueling station. Coats fumbled with his rifle as he struggled to equip the new attachment to his gun. A second shudder caused the control panel to spark, hissing and smoking as the vehicle descended rapidly. The pilot struggled to bring the shuttle to bear.

"Lose it!" the lieutenant hissed.

"I'm trying!" the pilot shouted. "It's right above us!"

The shuttle groaned, and the lights flickered on and off. The only constant light was emitting from the sparking control panel. Coats gripped the edge of the cockpit tightly as the ground rushed up to meet them.

The shuttle finally veered upward, leveling with the ground. Coats stepped back into the loading area. "We need to exit, now!" said the lieutenant, opening the doors. The wind rushed into the vehicle, buffeting Coats. "Grab a battery and jump!"

Captain Clark held onto the edge of the vehicle as the fueling station came into view. The shuttle was inches above the ground. Coats heaved the battery over his shoulder and dove out of the shuttle, the field rushing up to meet him. _Holy shit. What the hell did I just do?_

Coats landed, rolling onto the ground as the shuttle strained to decelerate. The world tumbled around him, throwing clouds of dust over his visor and turning his vision grey. His senses were thrown wild and he felt the blood rush back and forth into his head several times. Finally, he came to a stop, landing on his front with the battery to his side. Coats pushed himself up, ignoring the commands from his body to stay down. He staggered to one side and hooked the battery onto his backpack. He saw similar clouds of dust kick up around the fueling station as the shuttle came to a stop next to the building. A dark shadow flew over Coats's head and he immediately brought his rifle up, aiming upward.

The bright blue eyes of the harvester bore holes into Coats as it flapped its mighty wings, throwing up a torrent of wind around him. The major raised his weapon.

A long, obsidian-colored barrel extended from the length of the gun, nearly half as long as his forearm. The rifle could now fire rounds with a muzzle velocity of 1156 meters per second. On the side, a block-like attachment was fastened to the rifle. It held a special program that modified the rounds of his gun. A program that installed specially modified Krysae explosive rounds onto his Mantis.

Coats fired the first round, a spiraling molten piece of metal that impacted against the harvester's armored neck, smashing itself and the surrounding armored plates into atoms in a dark red explosion. The harvester roared, arching its long neck backwards. Coats pulled the bolt back and fired again, scoring a shot near the harvester's eye. The dragon-like creature flapped its wings and rose up, preparing to rain another volley of rounds at Coats. Light blue sparks flashed across its back as Team Alpha combined their fire onto the harvester. Coats raised his rifle and fired the explosive round square into the harvester's blue core.

The harvester screeched, ascending rapidly into the sky to avoid more fire. Sergeant Kamawura reached behind his back and aimed a round, block-like weapon at the harvester. The weapon flashed. The grenade arced gracefully through the sky for a brief second before crashing onto the harvester's back, triggering another violent explosion as the harvested exploded, throwing a cloud of red and black into the sky. The smoke cleared, and the entire town fell silent. Coats lowered his rifle, breathing hard. _Finally nailed you, you bastard. _

"Don't just stand there! That showdown just attracted every husk in the city. Start charging the batteries!"

_Oh. Right._

Adrenaline began pumping through Coats as he charged forward, battery in one hand and pistol in the other, rifle slung across his back. The grass field seemed to stretch out into infinity as Coats sprinted for the fueling station. His peripheral vision dimly caught the others running for the station as well. A black shadow unlike the others crossed his side vision and he turned his head to the source. _Well, that's definitely not them. _

The husk sprinted beside him, swinging its arms wildly at him. Coats fired a round through its head for its troubles. He looked around him. Several more husks were running through the field with them, howling and screeching at the intruding humans. Coats saw Emilia batting a husk away with her rifle, cursing as she caved the husk's head in with the butt of her rifle. Clark opted for a cleaner method, shooting the husk's legs out and leaving the creature to expire on the ground. Coats felt his foot hit solid ground. He reached the fueling station.

He scanned the fueling area and located the charger. He stuck the battery onto the charger and watched as the energy level slowly began to increase. After what seemed like minutes, the battery level increased to one percent. _This is worse than taking an elevator into combat. Actually, forget that. There is nothing worse than taking an elevator into combat. _Then a scraggly hand roughly grabbed his shoulder. _Oh yeah. Imminent danger. _

Coats twisted around, combat knife out in full swing. The blade cut clean through the husk's head, bringing the abomination down. More husks appeared across the field, lunging forward to attack the intruders. Coats noticed an old shelve wall to his side and kicked it down, taking cover behind the cold metal. The rest of the Team Alpha reached the fueling station. Clark took similar actions, heaving over a broken fuel tank and resting a familiar-looking weapon onto its side. The two sergeants quickly hurried to the fueling area. "Where's Team Bravo?" Coats yelled, firing another volley of rounds into a group of husks.

"No idea!" Lieutenant Haynes yelled back. "Assume they're not coming!"

"Already done!" shouted Emilia.

"Damn!" Coats cursed as gunshots began pinging off his makeshift cover. He looked over the lip of the shelf; cannibal husks were covering on the fueling station, roaring and wildly firing rounds in their direction. Coats checked his equipment bag: a few bundles of thermal clips, a couple of grenades, and a remote detonator and explosive. _Not much to work from. _

"Listen up!" Lieutenant Haynes shouted over the roar of the gunfire. "We've got ten minutes tops before the entire city decides to attack us! We've got a similar amount of time for the batteries to charge up! Defend the fueling station and don't let a single husk break past you! Hold the line!"

Krogh never considered himself to be an optimistic person. He always assumed the worst, and this view seemed to keep him living long enough to tell the next person what a fool he was for hoping for the best. He didn't consider himself to be a pessimistic person either. He thought of himself as a practical person, a pragmatist. For instance, weighing in their usual luck during the war, their odds of receiving backup in their situation seemed dim. He was also a careful man. Cautiousness kept him alive, and his shotgun reciprocated his desire for safety, keeping most opponents away from the close range bubble of space around him. Krogh pumped his shotgun, feeling the satisfying _chk-chk_ of his gun. Unlike most shotguns, his pump actually improved his gun's bullet spread and increased its range by charging up the rounds.

Another husk made it within the ten feet radius around Krogh. The veteran shredded the husk's face from his head with a single, precise blast from his shotgun. More husks reached him, and soon the gunfire became a steady rhythm of pumping and firing. The husks soon disintegrated before him. His shotgun clicked empty right as another husk made it in front of him. The weapon was on the ground as soon as Krogh drew his pistol, executing the husk with a single, fluid shot. For him, killing melee enemies such as husks was an easy task. Imaginary crosshairs lined themselves up on the husks and his mind assigned priority targets to each husk. His body simply obeyed its commands, mechanically killing each husk in order. For this, Krogh always found plenty of time to think during combat. _It's not like there's much to it. Just pull the trigger before they get too close. _

His eyes blinked rapidly as something impacted against his shields, sharply dropping his barrier count. He ducked behind the broken shuttle, quickly reloading his shotgun. He quickly rose up again and his mind went wild, locating targets spread out as far as fifteen feet, all converging on his position. Before he could pull the trigger, a loud buzz cascaded over his ears, threatening to break the audio buffers in his helmet. The husks were annihilated. A steady blur of blue crossed over each husk, passing completely through their bodies and reducing them to dust. Mushrooms of dirt and debris erupted behind the husks as the beam of light cut through the husks and into the ground behind them. Before long, the husks were gone. Krogh blinked and spared one second to look behind him. Ten feet away, Clark gave him a quick nod before turning around to deal with another group of husks. Krogh smirked; ever since his captain had received the rifle, Clark seemed more inclined to show off his prowess with his gun when they were fighting. Another chorus of moaning echoed behind him and Krogh turned his attention back to the husks. His shotgun fired again.

The crosshairs dragged themselves over another husk. A quick retort from his rifle confirmed the kill as the creature exploded into pieces. He pulled the bolt back and barely had time to push the bolt forward when he fired again, shattering a group of cannibals. Coats turned to his right and brought his rifle to bear against a particularly daring cannibal, who ventured from behind its fallen companions to attack the marine. Coats shot an explosive round straight through the cannibal's organic armor.

He was about to execute another husk when the creature suddenly died, falling into piece in his scope. He looked around before returning to the battle in hand. "I know, you were about to get that one, weren't you?"

"I might have," grunted Coats, firing into another group of husks. Emilia suddenly appeared by his side, sniper rifle in hand.

"Oh, come on," she said, chuckling as she mowed down a husk who had strayed too far from cover. "Don't act like you weren't _bothered _by my kill."

"If you got him first, then good for you."

"You're no fun. At least Krogh responds. Well, in his own way."

Coats smirked.

Clark brought his gun to bear on a cannibal, feeling satisfied as the creature fell apart in front of him. Apart from the occasional husk that strayed too close to him for comfort, he was keeping all of the husks at bay with a constant spray. It was incredible how much damage the Spirit could do in such a short time. Of course, its effectiveness was probably proportional to its cost. A cannibal stuck its hump out of cover and Clark didn't waste any time drilling straight through it, shredding the upper half of the cannibal. Then something on the far side of the field caught his attention. _That's different. _

Three husks were floating in the air, suspended by what seemed like red strings. His eyes followed the strings downward and found the source. A turian-looking husk stood before the husks, right arm held high in the air as it released what he now thought was energy into the human husks. It had bright blue eyes, and its face was also dotted with blue lights. Its skin seemed more metallic, sharper and edgier. In its other hand it held a angular, sharp-looking rifle. _That's a turian Phaeston assault rifle. Medium rate of fire, low damage rate, but each shot releases relatively low heat compared to most assault rifle. It could fire for minutes. _

The husks were slowly being enveloped with the red mass. The turian husk lowered its hand, and the former humans dropped to the ground, now encased in solid looking red matter. They resumed their charge toward the fueling station, with the turian husk now engaging their team.

Captain Clark fired a few experimental shots at the modified husks. The rounds flashed blue against the red matter and bounced off, which only confirmed what Clark had already figured out. _That turian husk just gave those husks armor! Well, they don't seem that tough…_

Clark fired his rifle at full-auto, and soon the husks were dust. _That wasn't that bad. It just takes another second to shoot through them. _Then something glinted red in the distance, nearly out of sight. Clark turned his gun to the new adversary, and suddenly grew very worried. _One second will make a hell of a difference. _

A sea of husks. Hundreds of husks stepped menacingly from behind the building towards the Corlus station. Turian husks and cannibals were mixed in with the group. Each husk was covered in red, organic armor. Their eyes were barely visible underneath the bulk of their armor. Clark thought he saw a brute or two in the back.

"Team Alpha," Clark said sharply through the mikes. "We've got a…what's the word…a _shitstorm _on the east side. Yeah, that'll do."

"A what?" said Emilia over the mikes. Then he heard her off the mikes. "Oh _shit_."

Coats was looking through his scope. And looking. _I've never seen so many husks in one place. Where are they coming from? _

The husks seemed to be taking their time, approaching at a snail's pace towards the fueling station. Aside from the eastern front, the other fronts seemed to be lightening up, only producing the occasional husk that vainly attempted to reach the fueling station. Krogh and Lieutenant Haynes appeared beside Coats.

"How long do we have until those batteries are fully charged?" muttered Coats.

"Several minutes," replied Haynes, surveying the horde. "Not nearly enough time to fill them up."

"I think we can call it quits," said Coats slowly. "We don't need to charge those batteries fully."

"We do," said the lieutenant soberly. "The shuttle's battery was damaged on the way here. Only one of these batteries can work inside a shuttle, and we need five minutes, tops, for this battery to have enough charge to get the shuttle back to base."

"I don't even think we have _two _minutes," said Clark. "Unless those husks keep moving at that pace."

"They've stopped," Krogh said suddenly.

The husks stood at the edge of the street, arms outstretched and tensed in anticipation. A few more husks arrived, adding to the massive horde that waited at the curb. His sightline had become a swirling mass of darkness.

"Krogh, watch our backs," said Coats. "The moment that battery fills, we're out of here. We need everyone else up here and gunning."

Coats turned back to the husks. "Because we're going to need it."

Major Coats waited. His hand slowly flicked the switch on his rifle that would disable the bolt mechanism. Now his rifle was semi-automatic. He checked to make sure his rifle still had active Krysae rounds. _It won't even matter what I hit. This rifle will be ruining someone's day no matter where I point it. _

Finally, one of the husks moved. In the center of the crowd, a husk took one step forward, placing its foot on the edge of the grass field. Coats fired one shot, watching the explosive round streak towards the husk and detonating upon impact, shattering the husk into innumerable pieces. The rest of the Reaper creatures howled in response. Then they charged.

Coats couldn't describe what the next minute sounded like. That's because his auditory sensors were overloaded with howls, moans, screeches, and gunfire. Emilia tossed grenades at their feet, racking the horde with violent explosions that shook the field. The lieutenant and the sergeants sprayed rounds all across the line of advancing husks. Coats spammed rounds into the horde, trying to punch a hole through the husk line. A blue light flashed into existence next to him, one that caused the ground to shake next to him. _Couldn't have been happier that Clark picked up that LMG. _

Clark's hand began to throb after nearly twenty seconds of sustained fire. The husks came into view, and then they disappeared. Running from two thermal clips combined, the Spirit showed no sign of letting up on the husks. Hundreds of rounds streamed out of the barrel, so much that the muzzle flash nearly blinded Clark, obstructing the center of his vision. Even so, it didn't matter.

"Shit!" Emilia cursed as a round penetrated her shields and grazed her finger. "_Fucking _husk!"

"It only hit your finger," Krogh commented from behind.

"It still fucking hurts!" said Emilia through gritted teeth. "And shut the hell up! You're supposed to busy watching our backs!"

"And if you haven't noticed," Krogh commented conversationally, as if he was chatting with them on an average day, "the other husk forms have begun to control the battlefield. We'll be overwhelmed soon."

"Explain," shouted Lieutenant Haynes.

"The turian husks have retreated to the edge of the battlefield, laying down cover fire and arming the human husks. The cannibals are providing fire support over their vanguard, preventing us from obliterating the husk line. In minutes, they will have overrun us with sheer numbers. It's only a matter of time."

It was true. The husks, slowly but steadily, were gaining ground. The other half of the field had been taken, and with each step the husks took the closer they were to reaching their position. _Never mind tactics; there are so bloody many that they could take us simply by running straightforward. _

Then Coats saw it. Looming behind the husks was a group of massive brutes, shaking the ground with each earth-shaking step they took. The lead brute reared up and roared, an ear-splitting howl that shook Coats down to his bones. The rest of the squad was similarly affected. The deformed husks moved forward with singular purpose, shrugging off metal slugs as they lumbered towards the fueling station. Suddenly, the husks seemed much less of a threat.

"Sergeant Kamawura, what's the status on that battery?" Coats shouted back.

"Still need one more minute, Major!"

"Forget it! We need to leave right now!" Coats fired off a round, spearing three husks with one shot. His rifle clicked empty and he reached back for his thermal clips, finding only one left in his bag. "Now!"

"We won't be able to make it back on that battery, Major!" said Lieutenant Haynes.

"The battery won't matter if those brutes get here," insisted Coats. The brutes stepped closer, ignoring the rounds that bounced off their armored skin. "Lieutenant Haynes!"

"We need to fill those batteries! We don't even have enough charge to make it back!"

"We're going to _die _if we don't leave!" Coats shouted. "Those batteries won't mean a thing if they can't get to base!"

"I order you to—

The lieutenant never finished his sentence. In one second, the merc's helmet flew right off his head, landing on the ground with a spatter of blood. The lieutenant fell to the ground with a thud, head on its side. More turian husks were closing in on their position, following closely behind the relative safety of the brutes.

"Sergeant Kamawura and Sergeant Cameron!" shouted Coats, slowly backing up. "Grab the batteries and load them on to the shuttle! We're leaving!"

As the others began retreating to the shuttle, Coats looked down at Lieutenant Haynes. Although he had taken a vicious shot to the head, his helmet had saved his life. The fallen officer lay unconscious on the ground, completely unaware of the chaos around him. Coats threaded his arm around the lieutenant's shoulder, lifting him up on his own shoulder. Clark was at his side, shooting a husk that had gotten very close to Coats.

"What the hell are you doing?" hissed Clark.

"My duty," replied Coats, trudging back to the shuttle.

"He was about to order us to stay here!" said the captain. "You really want him back with us?"

"It's not about what I want," grunted Coats. "We're not leaving him to die."

"Shit." Clark swept his rifle side to side, spraying the approaching husks at thousands of rounds per minute. Coats could see the shuttle lift off the ground, with Emilia shooting from the open doorway. "Get a move on!" yelled Emilia.

Husks around them were dropping like flies, yet the brutes seemed almost upon them, smashing through the remnants of the fueling station. The deformed husks were moving faster now, swinging their great arms in wide circles in anticipation. One brute smashed its fist into the ground, carving a hole into the asphalt. Sharp debris rained down on Coats, who winced but kept moving forward, at last reaching the shuttle. Coats tossed the lieutenant aboard the shuttle, and heaved himself onto the vehicle. The doors closed, and the brutes disappeared from sight.

The shuttle took off, rapidly accelerating into the sky. Coats could see through the glass as the husks completely overran the fueling station. Grenades were lobbed into the air, though only in vain as the explosives arced gracefully underneath them and exploded on the horde. Bullets pinged off the shuttle, but soon the husks were out of effective range, shrinking into minute dots beneath them.

Emilia let her rifle lean against the wall, and she looked at the lieutenant on the ground. "Why did you bring him?" she demanded. "Major, sir."

"It's our job," said Coats simply. _It's our duty to protect the innocent and defend the weak. Lieutenant Haynes may have been an incompetent commanding officer, but he's still an ally. And we need those now more than ever._

"This son of a bitch was about to make us stay and die in that fueling station," said Emilia.

"We don't leave people behind," replied Coats. "That's not what we do."

Looking exasperated, Emilia left for the cockpit, leaving Clark, Coats, and Krogh sitting together in the dark red light of the shuttle. "You're aware that disobeying Lieutenant Haynes's orders will result in disciplinary action when you return to the fort?" said Krogh.

"I'm well aware of that," answered Coats.

"Just so you know." The relative silence in the cockpit was suddenly interrupted by noise coming from the cockpit. Coats was there immediately, standing behind the two sergeants.

"Bravo team never made it to the rendezvous point," said Sergeant Cameron, speaking into the cockpit.

"It's likely that they were ambushed, like you were," issued a voice from the comm panel. "It's unfortunate that we lost another squad, but we're glad that your team still managed to complete the mission. Land at the northern entrance when you return. There have been reports of husk activity in the eastern sector."

"Roger that," said Sergeant Cameron.

"Did you forget to tell them that we don't have enough charge to get back anyway?" said Coats.

"We've looked over our charge levels," explained Sergeant Kamawura. "And we're confident that we can make it back."

"If you say so," replied Coats. _Because our lives depend on your "confidence". The shuttle can't use confidence as fuel. _He sat back down in the shuttle loading area.

"I'm beginning to regret our decision to stay with them," said Krogh. "It feels like we're detracting from our main goal."

"Fort Hannover is the biggest power in the city," replied Clark. "We need their help to locate Admiral Anderson. And we don't want them to be against us."

"They are not to be trusted," said Krogh. "They would kill us in a heartbeat if they felt we weren't helping them."

"We don't have a choice."

_I agree with Krogh, but we need the Blue Suns' help if we want to find the rest of the evac fleet. There's no telling what happened—_

The shuttle shuddered, groaning as if it was in pain. Coats and Clark ran to the cockpit, where the pilot was frantically maneuvering the vehicle, fingers flying over the control panel. The sergeants looked panicked.

"What's going on?" demanded Clark.

The shuttle stopped. Literally. The lights shut off and the cabin was plunged into darkness, save for the orange glow of Coats' omni-tool. The others in the shuttle disappeared. The major felt the engine halt to dead silence beneath his feet, a horrifying yet curious feeling. Clark summed up the situation.

"Shit."

Then Coats felt the shuttle fall. In the lack of gravity, Coats flailed his arms ahead of him for his seat. His right hand hooked onto a safety belt and he quickly pulled himself back into the chair, restraining his body. _This is going to hurt._

Coats remembered at the last second to loosen his jaw. If his teeth were pressed together when the shuttle landed, the impact would shatter them. The cabin was silent, save for the howling wind he could hear outside the shuttle. _It's probably going to happen when I least—_

The shuttle crashed.

**And that's the end of the second chapter of A System That Works. What do you guys think? Leave any comments or criticisms you have in the review section. Thanks!**


	7. A System That Works: Intermission

**A System That Works**

**Intermission**

**I'm sorry, guys, but with all of my school work and exams, I couldn't get this chapter done in time. It's been nearly two months since I last posted; I'm sorry again, but here it is. Expect s*** to get real after this chapter, in both the content and my update schedule.**

_You never learned, did you?_

_ Darkness. Coats opened his eyes, black spots pulsating in my vision. The light above seemed unnaturally bright and vivid. Coats's surroundings seemed to be in a constant state of flux, shifting and changing in a swirling mass of gray. A lone man stood in front of him, his back to him. The man turned around, adjusting his right shoulder plate. _

_ Learned what? Coats stood up, staggering to his feet. The man didn't make a move. Instead, he simply stared at Coats as he unsteadily stumbled to his feet. _

_ Learned to do what was necessary._

_ I couldn't do that. Not then, not ever. _

_ Pathetic. The man began to pace around Coats, whose feet felt rooted to the ground as the man circled him. _

_ Even after all these years, you still haven't learned._

_ I have. I've actually grown since then._

_ You juggle idealism and reality. Morals and practicality. You still haven't learned to do what is necessary. _

_ Or maybe I'm trying to avoid becoming you._

_ The man fixated his one blind eye on him._ _When it gets down to it, when we're left with not even the bare necessities, could you ever do what is necessary? To survive? To ensure survival? _

_ I don't know. _

_ It's a pity you haven't learned._

_ The man began to fade away, blending in with the swirling darkness behind him. Coats reached out to him, but found that he couldn't even move his arms._

_ It's a pity…_

Sharp pain. An ache in his back. Feeling. Coats opened his eyes, and found himself staring up at a gray surface. He tried to sit up, but as he did a sharp pain flashed across his ribcage and he collapsed back onto the bed.

_Wait, bed? I'm not outside. _Coats concentrated on the center of his pain and focused on it. After a minute, he had pinpointed the white center of his pain and sat up, ignoring the sharp pangs in the chest. He ran his hand over his face and looked around, avoiding twisting his body around too much. _A bit too late for that, I say._

It was a dull, gray room. Streaks of faded brown dotted the walls, and the only other pieces of furniture in the room was a metal fold-up chair next to the door and a metal cabinet beside his bed. A neat stack of what looked like medical supplies lay across him, overflowing with the standard medi-gel packs and field painkillers, loaded up in syringes. An IV was attached to his arm, hooked up to a particularly complex piece of machinery that looked out of place in the relatively low-tech looking room. His bed was covered in surprisingly soft sheets, with a familiar-feeling Army air mattress underneath him.

A bored-looking mercenary entered the room, motioning towards Coats with his head cocked the other way. "Doctor. He's awake."

"Thank you, Louis." A gray-haired man in black BDUs entered the room, omni-tool in one hand and syringe in the other. The latter looked less inviting.

Rubbing his balding head, the doctor ran his omni-tool over Coats, who now began to sit up again. The doctor looked as if he was about to protest, and then he stopped and shook his head. "Despite the rather severe crash you endured, Major," said the doctor, wrinkles in his forehead creasing, "you seem to be mostly intact.

"Three bruised ribs, a gash on your upper left arm, a second-degree burn on your right thigh, and a sprained left wrist. That seems to be the worst of it, Major Coats." The doctor looked up from his omni-tool. "You were very lucky."

"Am I…back in Fort Hannover?" said Coats, clutching his abdomen with his right hand.

"Indeed," replied the doctor. "Oh yes, I forgot. I am Doctor Patel. I am the leading physician here at Fort Hannover, leading a staff of twenty other medical officers, who have all been personally trained by me. I assure you that you are in capable hands here."

"Where's the rest of my squad? The ones who were travelling with me."

"Yes, your squad. Let's see…" The doctor flipped through a few pages in his omni-tool before stopping. "First up, Captain Clark. Fractured left shinbone, mild concussion, two broken fingers, and general scarring and bruising on his face. Lieutenant Krogh. Superficial scratches and bruising only. Sergeant Emilia. Same. However, I am afraid that I can't say that for Sergeant Cameron and Sergeant Kamawura. Both were killed on impact. Fatal chest puncture wounds."

"What of Lieutenant Haynes?"

"The lieutenant suffered severe head trauma, though this was mostly due to his head wound before the crash. If he hadn't been wearing a helmet, he would have surely died. As of now, he's going to be bedridden for at least a week."

Coats nodded, and then winced as another movement shifted his bruised ribs. "Can I have one of those painkillers behind you? I want to be able to move without collapsing."

The doctor procured a syringe from the pile of medical supplies, rummaging through the boxes for several seconds before finding one that the doctor seemed satisfied with. _I didn't think there'd be abundant medical supplies in a refugee camp. And this is only one operating room! It sounds like they have an entire facility in the fort dedicated to medical purposes. Where did the Blue Suns get all of this equipment?_

Coats watched as the doctor administered the painkiller, watching the clear liquid exit the vial and feeling the icy substance spread across his skin, eventually dissipating into his system. A clear bell sound echoed in the room, and the doctor raised his omni-tool to head height. "I have to go now," said Doctor Patel, turning to leave. "Especially after receiving that painkiller, I'd advise you to stay in bed for a few more hours, but you probably won't listen."

Then the doctor was gone. _Can't say he was wrong, then. _Coats stood unsteadily on the floor, holding the edge of his bed for support. After testing a few steps, he felt like he had mastered walking and opened the door.

His first steps echoed through the empty hallway, eventually fading away at the end, several doors down. Coats guessed that each door most likely led to a room similar to the one he had just exited. As he crossed the empty hallway, his metal boots reverberated across the metal floor, making the trip longer than he expected as he subconsciously counted each footstep, almost in a daze. _I guess I still haven't quite fully recovered, then. _

The door opened, one side blocked by a familiar figure. "Major Coats," said Commander Singh. "Just the person I wanted to see. Walk with me."

Oddly, no one passed by them for the next few minutes, leaving them alone as they crossed empty hallways. The journey continued in silence for the first minute. "What do you know of the of those alien ships, Major?"

_Reapers. An immortal race of sentient starships that wait in dark space and harvest the most advanced species every 50,000 years. _"I know that they're here to kill everyone," replied Coats.

"So I've gathered," said Singh. "What do you think motivates them? Where do they come from? What are they? How did they manage to punch through the Alliance military and invade Earth?" The Blue Suns commander looked at Coats. "Has the Alliance told you anything?"

_They want to create more Reapers. They come from dark space. They're half-organic, half-synthetic spaceships. They have technology more advanced and more powerful than anything that has ever existed. Yes. _"Not much," said Coats. "I know that that they came from dark space and that they're hitting everyone in the galaxy hard. And I know that the Alliance doesn't stand a chance against them. Not alone. That's mostly it."

"Hmm," replied Singh. A lie. "If the Alliance can't defeat the Reapers, what do you think we should do?"

_Unite the entire galaxy against the Reapers. _"Fight them with everything we have. Do what we can here on Earth while the higher-ups up there figure out a plan."

"And if they can't? And if we can't?"

"I don't know," admitted Coats. _Where is he going with this?_

"I see," said Singh. He suddenly stopped before an intersection in the hallway. Not a moment later, a squad of Blue Suns mercenaries passed by them, lost in their own conversation. They resumed walking.

"Major Coats, do you want to know what the Blue Suns' numbers are now?" said Singh suddenly.

"I would," said Coats, put-off.

"We have fifty-one professional soldiers left from our original company, which was comprised of a hundred men. Of the forty-nine lost, thirty-seven were killed in the initial attack. Since then, we've learned the tactics of these creatures and used that to our advantage to stay alive. Even so, we don't have the numbers to face the husks in open combat. That's why I have come up with a solution."

Coats could hear his heart beating as the Commander tensed to reveal his plan. Singh looked away, eyes staring past the wall. "I have, in my possession, a vast amount of food and supplies. If we continue to ration our food and conserve our energy, we should be able to last approximately one year at our current rate. If we discontinue all of our current operations and close off Fort Hannover from the outside world, we should be able to last even longer. Then, when these aliens finally decide to focus their energy elsewhere, we can began building ourselves up again from the ruins."

He looked back at Coats. "That's the plan."

_He intends to wait the Reapers out. That would never work. _"What makes you think they'll just leave?"

"It doesn't seem like they're here to stay. In fact, those aliens seem very intent on destroying everything on this planet. They don't seem concerned with spoils of war or conquest. At this rate, it won't take them that long to kill us all, will it? Then what reason will they have to stay?"

_You couldn't be more wrong. The Reapers won't even bat an eye after a year of waiting; they'll just kill you too. We've got to find Admiral Anderson and get the hell out of here. _

"Why not just help the Alliance?" said Coats. "They could definitely use your resources."

"Major," said the commander, stopping. "You've fought these creatures. After seeing what they can do, can you honestly imagine any force we have that can stop them?"

_Looming, obsidian starships carved inky blotches of black into the sky. Horrifying flashes of red beamed down onto the cities below. The entire earth engulfed in fire, drowned in the echoes of screams of the doomed and the suffering… _

"No," said Coats quietly. "I don't think so. But I have hope. It's something we all need."

"In a situation this bleak, what is there left to hope…?" The commander swiped his hand across the adjacent door, the metal surface smoothly sliding away to reveal… "Look at them."

Two men were sitting side by side, huddled over a tube light in the dimly lit room. Both wore haggard faces, marked with scraggly beards and heavy scarring. One of the men's right eye was blackened, as if contaminated. One was staring at the tube light motionlessly, the other twitched constantly. Both were facing apart from each other. "These two men used to be police officers in this city."

Singh was begging for the question. "Why?"

"During the invasion, husks swept into the department headquarters and killed nearly everyone before the remaining officers could escape. They roamed the city for days, watching as the husks killed all of their friends and family, knowing that they could do nothing to save them. Eventually, the remaining officers began dying off as well, whether it was a twisted ankle in a foot chase or an ambush, and these two were left. I found them on the streets around two weeks ago. Both are suffering from severe PTSD. It's taken this long to coax the story out of them.

There are millions, probably billions of stories like this one. We're all in the same boat. The same, sinking boat. You think we have a chance? My men haven't confronted these aliens directly. We've only managed to avoid their attention by lying low and keeping our engagements short and sporadic. If they came here in full force with the intention of blowing this fort to hell, we'd be dead already. I doubt the Alliance can even communicate with itself, with the situation in the galaxy as it is. That's how my solution is the best solution. Live to fight another day."

_If everyone had the same mindset, we would never be able to win this war. _Coats thought sourly._ He's just being selfish. I'm not giving up on Earth, not now, not ever. I'm should just leave right now and find Admiral Anderson. _

"But I elaborate too much," Singh dismissed, letting the doors slide closed. "I have an important meeting in a few hours, so I need to prepare. I believe that you don't have anything pressing to do right now, so you're free to wander the premise. Think about what I said, Major."

The commander patted Coats's shoulder before he left.

…

"Hold it tightly and angle it towards me. Just hold it…got it."

The lid of the box cracked open, and the contents spilled onto the waiting platform. Coats took the first packet and placed it on a metal tray, followed by an apple and a metal cup of cold water. He handed it off to the first man, who thanked him with a brief nod before turning away. Coats prepared another tray and turned around to give it to the next person, who turned out to be a woman and a child. The woman brushed her frizzled hair from her face, wiping at her forehead.

"Can we have another apple?" said the woman, clearing her throat. Coats looked around him. The others were still hard at work, either opening more boxes or washing collected trays and cups. His hand darted inside the fruit container and closed around a smooth, cool apple. The fruit was on the tray and handed to the woman in a second. "Thank you," said the child in a small voice. Coats nodded.

After a few more people received their food, the line died down. Coats sat down on one of the boxes, silently taking small bites out of an apple. He could feel the juice trickle down his throat and fill his stomach with nutrition. Another man sat down beside him. "Thanks for the help," said Jecko, wiping his sweat with a browned rag. "Usually the mid-afternoon crowds are big, but today has been oddly quiet."

"Not a problem," replied Coats, taking another bite out of his apple.

"In any case, thank you—What did you say your name was again?"

"Coats. Major Coats."

"Thank you, Major Coats."

Jecko was silent for a few minutes. Coats finished his apple, dropping the core into the bin beside him. He looked at the man, sizing him up. _He seems trustworthy enough, even if I have only known him for less than an hour. _"Jecko."

"Yes, Coats?"

"I have a question."

"Ask it," said Jecko, turning to him.

"How long have you been here?"

"Two weeks."

"Have you been here most of the time?"

"Mostly. Sometimes I have to sort through the salvages and distribute them to the certain areas of the fort."

"Right." There was more silence. Jecko sipped at his water, setting the metal onto the floor next to him. He drew a deep breath and exhaled. "How long have you been a soldier?"

"Fifteen years," said Major Coats. "I've been enlisted since I was twenty. Even before then, I had been military my whole life."

"What do you think of our chances in this war, Major?"

_Zero to none? Slim, almost non-existent? How can one tell people that they're probably all doomed? How can one tell a mother that her child has no hope for survival, and that she and everyone she knows and loves will all die? _

"…If we all can work together to stop them," said Coats slowly. _Ignoring the fact that "all" means everyone in the galaxy._ "we have a good chance of defeating them."

"For all of our sakes', I hope we can," said Jecko solemnly.

"Jecko, what's your opinion of Commander Singh?"

Coats could see the corner of Jecko's mouth tighten, as if he were tense. His eyes looked ahead, but they weren't staring at the wall five meters away. "He's a good commander," said Jecko finally. "He's kept most of us alive, which is more than I can say if we were all by ourselves."

"That's not what I meant," said Coats. "And I think you do know what I meant."

The dark man was silent. And then—

"He leads us well. He allows us to stay here and survive. If we have to do some work around the fort, we wouldn't mind in return for our safety."

Coats shifted in his seat. "So all you do here is work around the fort?"

"Of course not," said Jecko, shaking his head. "When the time comes to defend this fort, we will fight. We will all fight."

"Have you any training? These husks are dangerous."

"So is a man with a will to live and nowhere else to turn to," replied Jecko. A new apple had appeared in his hands. "Where else will we go if we can't defend our home? You tell me."

Coats was silent. And then—

"I know you are new here, Coats," he said quietly, looking into his eyes. "But you must understand this. It would do you no good to ask that question here. What is the phrase? Curiosity…killed the cat."

Someone shouted Jecko's name. Behind them, the line was steadily picking up again, and the staff was looking increasingly understaffed.

"I must go now," said Jecko, standing up, dropping the apple. He didn't seem to notice. "There is work to do."

And he left, leaving Coats behind. The apple rolled away, disappearing underneath the meal station cart. The major loitered around the meal station for a few more minutes, and then he left as well. Unsure of where he was exactly going, Coats felt content to simply wander the base. _It's been a while since I've had nothing to do. Actually, I can't remember a time when I didn't have anything to do. _

_There's always something to do_, nagged the voice in his head.

_Like what? _retorted Coats.

The voice didn't answer back. Coats stopped, and cursed silently. _And I'm arguing with myself. Maybe I should find something to do._

"I'm telling you, that's not the right ammunition block!"

Coats rounded the corner. Halfway down the hallway, two Blue Suns mercenaries were engaged in a heated discussion, the first leaning against a crate, the second pointing at the other mercenary. The first merc was holding a Thunder assault rifle, Coats recognized, and a gray ammunition block. The second merc was holding a black ammunition block.

"I've been using this gun for years, I know which ammunition block it uses," said the second merc. "This is definitely the right ammunition block."

The first mercenary rubbed his visor, bowing his head slightly forward. "No, it's not. You can use a different block, but it wears down the gun faster and it might even jam. If you use the right one, you shouldn't even have a problem."

"I don't have a problem."

"Yes, you do. You're using the wrong ammunition block."

"It works fine."

"Luck. That's all."

"I think I can be lucky a few more times before I—

"Hey," interrupted the first merc. "Aren't you that Alliance major?"

Coats started. _Forgot I was just standing there. _"Yes," answered Major Coats. "I am. And you are?"

"Private Peek. This is Private Kirk."

"I can say my own name, 'Peek'", said Kirk irritably, turning towards Coats. "You're an Alliance soldier. Which ammunition block goes inside this gun?"

"The light gray one," replied Coats.

"I told you," said the second merc. "We could have saved a couple of hours."

"But I know this is the right one," muttered Peek, looking at the block.

"Thanks for the help," said Kirk, turning back to Coats. "He wouldn't shut up about it for hours. Like that time we fought off husks in downtown, and one of them managed to grab his shoulders."

"That was _fucked_ up. I thought I was going to die!"

"It took him a week to stop quoting the story to us," continued Kirk, shaking his head.

"When did you have to fight husks downtown?" said Coats.

"Back when we were still trying to get settled in Fort Hannover," replied Kirk. "The Commander sent two squads to pick up some crates of supplies some survivors had collected in a store downtown. The first time we sent recon through, we didn't catch anything lurking around the store. When we came back, we got ambushed. It was hell trying to clear an LZ and get out of there. Husks bum rushing us, cannibals all around, marauders cloaking every husk with armor. Fucking chaos."

"I thought downtown would have been overrun."

"So did we. If we had known what we know now, we could have saved a lot of lives. Now we're down to sixty or so men."

"Wait, what surrounded you? You said, marauders?"

"Yeah. Turian husks. That's what the Alliance has been calling them at least. It works better than "that turian husk thing".

"Do you know of the situation here?" questioned Coats. "On Earth, as a whole."

"Not much," said Kirk darkly. "A week ago Peek was flipping through a couple of the stations on his omni-tool when he hit an Alliance channel that was still working. We got it to the Commander right away. The Alliance, what's left of it, was directing people to safe zones like Philadelphia where they had the biggest military presence. Apparently the Alliance is trying to regroup and coordinate with the rest of the Alliance. Then, a few days later we got another broadcast telling us to stay away from half of the safe zones they had declared safe earlier."

"We don't know what the hell is going on," added Peek.

"Right," replied Kirk. "We just know that the Alliance is on the run from those things. It's a shitstorm out here."

"Do you think we still have a chance to beat them?" said Coats. _I can probably guess…_

"Hell no," said the private, rubbing the back of his helmet. "The first few weeks we were here, there was an Alliance soldier, not an officer, just a soldier, here with us. He told us that his last orders from his superiors were to regroup and fortify at San Francisco. He was killed the next day. Then, a few days later, a group of survivors came here and told us that the entire city was burning the last time they saw it. They didn't know what they were the doing. The soldier didn't know what he was doing. His superiors didn't know what they were doing. The Alliance doesn't know what it's doing. You want my opinion? I'd say the best thing to do now is to grab a couple of MREs and hide in a hole somewhere until these _things_ leave."

"I'd make sure it's a big hole," added Peek, nodding.

"What channel can you find the Alliance broadcasts on?" Coats asked.

"Use your DAB and find SAEBC-142," Kirk instructed, displaying his omni-tool. "A week or two ago it started broadcasting every so often, so at least the Alliance has finally gotten its stations sort of under control. We figure they have a station nearby that's secretly broadcasting, making sure to only signal when the alien ships can't find them."

Coats pulled up the channels on his omni-tool, tweaking the frequency and adjusting the settings until…

"…_until further notice. Civilians should stay off the streets and safely make their way to the nearest Alliance emergency evacuation center. Contribute to the war effort by donating any weapons or supplies, such as canned foods…soldiers report to the nearest Alliance controlled base, located in Fort McHarrison in Sante Fe, New Mexico state. Be advised: all civilians and soldiers approach any non-Alliance controlled area with extreme caution…be alert for any suspicious activity. Main paths of travel are now unsafe…signing off now, listen for more news in seven hours…_"

The station cut off. Coats stared at his omni-tool, letting the warm orange glow of the device wash over his face. _So the Alliance is still functional, albeit heavily disorganized and damaged. It would make no sense to draw up all of our forces into one network, only to have a surprise attack destroy it and leave Earth worse than it was before. I can't say that I have a good feeling about this…_

An ear-splitting siren suddenly cut off Coats's train of thought. The siren continued to blare loudly, resonating from an unknown source. The two mercenaries were suddenly all business, moving behind the crates and snapping into position. Kirk raised his omni-tool to his helmet. "Yes sir!" he shouted into the omni-tool, and shut it off, standing up.

"We have a breach on our southern front!" said Kirk, turning to the other door on the far end of the hallway. "Enemy forces are pouring through a gap in our patrols! The Commander needs everyone on this side of the base to defend the breach. Let's move it!"

Peek tossed a heavy pistol from his belt to Coats, who deftly caught it with one hand and switched the safety off. "Use that until you can find something better to kill with!"

Coats hefted the pistol in his hand, weighing it. Satisfied, he clipped it onto his belt as he ran, bolting through the door as he saw more mercenaries join the hallway and run towards the southern sector. He saw refugees take up arms and help each other to their feet, abandoning all other material and hurrying towards the location of the breach. All other operations in the base froze as the fort's occupants readied themselves to protect their only mode of shelter. The siren continued to sound off the entire way there.

_I can't even have a few hours of peace_, thought Coats, grimacing. He passed through three more rooms before the mercenaries ahead of him reached a distinctly colored door, with black and yellow stripes across the front. Above, a sign read "Emergency Exit."

The door opened. Blinding light flooded into the hallway, and Coats jumped through the doorway without a second thought.


	8. A System That Works: Clouds of War

**Eclipse**

**Inquiry and Consequence**

…

**Second update, guys. Sorry about that; there were some issues with the first publication that I forgot to polish. No worries; it's fixed now. Enjoy! And if you're reading this for the first time, then look below. **

**Back from the afterlife! Sorry, about the long, long, long, long, long, and long update guys; I've been busy as of late (stretching from the holiday season to now) and I haven't had much time to think about the story, much less write it. But don't worry, this next update will definitely come sooner than you expect. In addition, I hope you'll begin to notice something different in my writing as the story progresses, because I've spent half of this time thinking about that. Thank you all for reading and reviewing, and enjoy!**

…

"Duck."

The word, barely registered as a sound in Coats's ears, drove him to the ground just as a volley of debris arced gracefully overhead, smashing into pieces behind him. Pressing his back against the wall of rubble that divided him and what seemed like the entire population of husks in the city, Coats jammed another thermal clip into his pistol and twisted around the side of the concrete block, spitting a few rounds at the encroaching husk line. Only one of the slugs made it past the husks' organic armor, knocking it backwards but otherwise doing little visible damage.

"This is a bloody shit pistol," said Coats through gritted teeth to no one in particular.

"That looks like a Hadne-Kednar pistol," replied someone beside him as if they were having a conversation in a café on a normal afternoon, "Like something we got out of the leftover pile in Fort Hannover's vaults."

The Blue Suns soldier pointed towards an array of discarded weapons ahead of them. "You could try getting to those!"

"And get my arm blown off in the process!" Coats yelled back. "Tell your commander to send that backup he promised. We're not going to last another minute if they keep pushing this flank!"

"They're here." Overhead, a shuttle veered to their right, showering the husks with relieving suppressive fire. A cannibal moved to throw a grenade at the shuttle, only to explode as the shuttle quickly cut through its armor. From behind, more Blue Suns joined their cover. The husks began to retreat as the shuttle pressed deeper into their territory.

"Good to see you're still alive, Coats," Kirk arrived with Peek in tow, sliding into position next to the major, "I didn't think anyone survived the last assault on this flank. The whole battlefield's getting lopsided."

"Has Commander Singh issued any orders?"

"As a matter of fact," said Kirk, grunting as another bullet scraped the edge of the concrete above his head, "He has. We're waiting for the refugees to arrive."

"Like hell," replied Coats, looking out from behind the block, scanning the battlefield. The husks had more or less retreated, preferring to fire from a good distance away and behind cover. The edge of the field dipped low into the surrounding city, providing a convenient hill for the Reaper forces to take cover. Large numbers of entrenched Reaper soldiers lined the edge, easily keeping the Blue Suns away from their main line. "They'll be slaughtered out here."

"If you have a better plan," said Kirk, and resumed firing.

Coats looked out towards the Reaper main line. _No. Not there. Nope. Wait…that'll do._

"As a matter of fact," Coats said, reaching into his suit pocket, "I do. Get ready to advance when I take point."

"Wait, what?"

"Commander Singh has ordered that all of the professional soldiers not move past this line," shouted one of the mercs, "We hold this position and wait for the militia to advance forward."

_Which translates into, "Let's use the inexperienced refugees as cannon fodder while we pick them off from afar."_ _Not my style. _Coats dug into his pocket until he found what he was looking for, digging out a small, rectangular piece of metal topped with a thin sheet of glass. Sticking his thumb between the glass and the metal, he popped the glass off and snapped it into place, perpendicular to the metal. He then activated the machine's automatic vacuum seals and placed it on the side of his head, sliding the visor over his right eye. A few moments later, the visor came to life, feeding distance, temperature, wind speed, and energy level information to the glass.

The visor's VI automatically identified the nearest husks within his field of vision, marking two cannibals thirteen meters away, a husk ten meters away, and a marauder eight meters away, taking cover behind an overturned crate. In the distance, he could make out a crashed Blue Suns shuttle. The vehicle was overturned on its side, and something glinted in the light over the edge of the shuttle door. Coats marked his destination, twenty meters away, behind a wrecked truck, and the visor instantly plotted the best route to the spot.

_Behind there, over that, and through there. Got it. _Coats suddenly ran forward, sprinting past the mercs and into the range of fire.

"What the hell are you doing?" yelled one of the mercs, "I said stay back!"

"I'm not a professional soldier," Coats ducked underneath a hail of fire as scooped one of the discarded rifles on the ground. He quickly brought the gun up to his shoulder, firing a few experimental rounds at the husks. _Semi-automatic, decent recoil, kicks up, a very slight drop over several meters, which probably means heavier slugs, and a small muzzle flash. _A marauder approached from his left, popping off shots at him that he could _definitely _feel flying past his ears, barely deflected by his shields. Coats hit the ground hard, sliding forward and firing the rest of his clip into the marauder.

_Not what I would pick as my favorite gun, but it'll do better than this pistol. _Coats leapt forward, keeping low to the ground while keeping a good distance between him and the husks. He slid behind the first piece of marked cover, a relatively small mound of concrete rubble. A group of cannibals was rushing towards him, howling and wildly slinging their rifle arms in his direction. Bullets pinged off the stone and scattered dust over his head. His gun peeked over the top of the pile and he fired, bracing his arm against the debris.

_One, two, three, four. That's a wrap. _Coats' visor identified another target coming from his right, ten meters away. He ran the opposite direction, running for the next piece of cover. Something thudded against the ground next to him, noticeably shaking the ground beneath his feet. Coats turned his head to the right. His visor assigned a threat level: Severe.

A massive brute was approaching him ahead, carving deep gouges into the ground with every step as it lumbered towards the ill-protected soldier. Coats picked up his pace, running to his left as the deformed beast increased its speed as well, thudding towards him at a steady run now. The whole world turned into a blur as his feet pounded against the ground, desperately trying to distance him and the brute. No such luck.

Within the seconds the brute was over him, roaring and smashing its thick armored fists towards him. _Son of a bi— _Coats rolled to the side, barely avoiding the first strike as it rented a hole in the ground. Coats backed up and his heel met steel, stopping him cold as the brute growled and rushed towards his again. _It's virtually flying— _The brute hurtled at him at a frightening speed, throwing its great weight into the shuttle behind him with the force of a freight train. The shuttle crumpled in a screeching collapse and Coats scrambled to his feet behind the brute, squeezing shots off behind him. His visor registered minimal damage and calculated the amount of bullets it would take to penetrate the brute's armor: Too many to count.

The brute roared; an ear-splitting howl that resonated through the air and echoed for miles. Behind Coats, Blue Suns were vainly attempting to kill the great beast from afar, barely scratching the brute's plates. Refugee soldiers poured into the battlefield from the fort, a disorganized rabble of guns, sweat, and desperation. Already the refugees were being cut down, desperation turning into terror as the Reaper forces began focusing their fire and killing them in earnest.

_Shit, there's not much time left. _Any thoughts he had of the refugees were abruptly interrupted as the brute charged towards him, its clawed fist drawn back in preparation of another blow. Coats flung a small metallic disc at the brute, watching the metal lodge itself into the brute's plates. The brute took another step and the disc's motion sensor received the movement, detonating the proximity explosive on the brute's chest, engulfing the brute in smoke and fire.

The deformed husk batted away the smoke and roared in defiance, launching itself at Coats. _Didn't even slow it— _The brute rained a devastating series of blows at Coats, smashing the ground to pieces in front of him. Coats barely had enough time to stumble backwards before the brute swung its fist at him again, nearly taking his head off. The metal barely passed his unprotected head, coming within inches of his ear. Coats jabbed his omni-tool towards the brute and activated the omni-tool's internal defense mechanism: a miniature arc projector. The Overload device instantly zapped the brute's eyes with eleven-thousand volts of electricity.

The brute howled in pain, stumbling backwards with one arm held unsteadily in front in a vain attempt to protect itself from the blinding light. Coats was already running, making a dead sprint for the wrecked shuttle twenty meters away. Bullets zinged past him and impacted against his shields. His kinetic barrier battery dangled dangerously close to zero. Coats pressed his thumb against his neck, activating the minute touch sensor which prompted his body to release a certain chemical in excess amounts: adrenaline.

_Drugs make everything better. _The world shrunk. Tiny tendrils of red creeping into his field of vision from the edges, and space ahead of him became tinged with yellow. The ache in muscles lessened and his lymphatic system slowed down, allowing his legs to sprint for much, much longer. His breaths became longer and deeper, pulling more oxygen into his body. To him, everything else seemed to move in slow motion, husks running at him at a snail's pace.

His hand touched the cool metal of the wrecked shuttle and he backed into the shuttle door, clipping his gun onto his back. _Hand here, up in there, and…there we go. _He crawled into the shuttle, left hand grasping the doorway for support and right hand clasped around his target. Within seconds he had scaled the slanted angle of the wrecked shuttle and secured himself at the other doorway. Coats clasped both of his hands around a set of handles and started the shuttle door gun.

Behind Coats, Private Kirk was one meter from death. His hand scrabbled furiously inside his magazine pouch as what was left of his cover bled away under heavy fire from a trio of marauders. His fingers found purchase on a thermal clip and Kirk quickly jammed the clip into the gun, scraping the roughed sides of the clip against the loading mechanism. He rose up and a harsh_ crack _sounded from his visor front as the marauder viciously whipped the butt of its gun against Kirk's helmet. Kirk stumbled backwards and brought his gun to the marauder, only for the marauder to grab hold of the weapon. He pressed the trigger and the weapon hissed, emitting a spurt of hot steam. The steam continued to shoot out farther as Kirk frantically pressed the trigger and the gun protested. Finally, the marauder yanked the weapon backward, hard, ripping it from Kirk's grip and sending him tumbling to the ground.

Dumb luck saved him. The marauder dropped the gun and attempted to crush it underfoot. The thermal clip cracked and the built-up pressure and heat was finally released, spraying scorching-hot steam all over the marauder. The deformed turian screeched, falling flat to the ground and writhing in agony. Kirk didn't waste another second, scrambling to his feet and silencing the husk with a harsh retort of his pistol. The other marauders had their backs to him, concentrating on the other Blue Suns. The private easily put them down.

"Thanks for the assist," huffed Private Peek, hobbling over to Private Kirk, "I thought I was dead."

"So did I," replied Kirk, turning to face the enemy again. His omni-tool beeped quietly and the call connected to his helmet, appearing as a small phone icon in the top right corner of the visor.

"Major Coats, do you read?"

"Reading, Private Kirk," answered Coats through a haze of static among other unidentified noises in the background.

"Where are you?" said Kirk, resting behind another concrete block and looking out towards the battlefield.

"I've taken point southwest of your position. I am operating heavy weaponry and currently engaging enemy hostiles. You're clear to advance and reinforce my position."

"Heavy weaponry?"

As far as shuttle door-mounted weapons went, the M-241A1 Light Anti-Aircraft Gun was a decent model, with slightly higher recoil but shorter cooling time. Coats was rapidly beginning to appreciate the shorter cooling sequence as more husks began to appear over ridge. The shuttle gun rotated to the right, showering the Reaper forces with fire. A marauder closed in on his left, and he quickly mowed down the ambitious Reaper soldier. More ranged Reaper forces began to concentrate their fire on his position, recognizing him as the greater threat.

_I really hope that those Blue Suns can get here in time. _Another bullet zinged past him, barely glancing off his personal shields. A husk made it within three meters of Coats before being shredded by shuttle fire. One marauder unexpectedly appeared next to him, lighting the shuttle with bullets. Coats swung the gun towards it and quickly riddled it with holes, turning back to face the bulk of the Reaper forces. A seemingly endless stream of husks clambered over the ridge to attack Coats, who was quickly discovering that his position, while tactically advantageous and defendable, could be compromised if the opposing side had sufficient troop numbers…

Outside of Coats's range, a brute lumbered menacingly towards his position, shaking the ground with every step. The monstrous creature roared deafeningly, announcing its presence on the battlefield. Coats turned his gun on the brute, but most of the slugs simply passed around the brute, which was standing barely out of range. The brute maneuvered around the field, making sure to keep something solid between the two of them as it slowly advanced towards Coats. Committed, he kept the gun on the brute, peppering it with suppressive fire.

Coats's hands were suddenly wrenched from the shuttle gun and he was instantly on his back. The husk's grisly hands grasped his shoulder guards and screeched in his face, spittle flying on his visor. Coats's left hand shot out and struck the husk's chest. His right hand pulled out his combat knife, stabbing the husk in the lower abdomen. Using the ground as support, Coats pulled backwards and kicked his legs upward, sending the husk tumbling overhead.

Coats didn't waste any time; he pivoted on his knees and pulled the pistol from his belt, putting two rounds each into the husk's legs, chest, and head. He had just enough time to look up as a marauder closed in on him, dropping his shields as it stepped within two feet of Coats. Coats aimed his pistol; his gun clicked and hissed empty. The marauder thrusted the butt of its gun forward and knocked the surprised Coats onto his back. _Shi_—

_Pop_. The decapitated marauder slumped forward, dropping next to Coats in a blood-soaked pile. From behind him, Coats could vaguely hear human voices growing closer to his position. Coats rolled forward, rifle loaded and ready. _That was close._

"Major!" Behind him, a small, mixed army of Blue Suns mercenaries and survivors advanced towards him, quickly driving back the Reaper forces. Assault shuttles hovered overhead, viciously showering the retreating enemy line with gunfire. The mercs reached Coats's position, and then the end of the battle began in earnest. Husk after husk was quickly cut down. Brutes began to slowly back up, ominous, slow steps that now impeded their retreat. At last, the Reaper forces disappeared over the edge of the plateau. More Blue Suns appeared from the shuttles as the officers arrived on the scene, surveying the battlefield. Commander Singh appeared as well. As the soldiers gathered, the battlefield grew quiet, as if his presence mandated silence.

"Good work, men," said the Commander. "We've successfully repelled another assault. But we're not finished yet. The aliens will continue to attack Fort Hannover until it's reduced to rubble. Which is why we're arming a mission to destroy them once and for all. Lieutenant Hook."

One of the officers behind Commander Singh stepped forward. The lieutenant was a lean, bald man with dark hair that looked freshly gelled and slicked. His face was well shaven, and his armor shone as if recently shined. He cast the briefest of glances towards Coats before turning his gaze to the rest of the soldiers.

"Reconnaissance teams have identified several enemy entrenched positions within the inner city," announced Lieutenant Hook, lighting up a holographic 3-D image of the city. Within the image, several pulsating red dots appeared around the center. "LP's have detected concentrated husk movements as far as three city blocks from the center. If we can eliminate these enemy positions, the husks will be crippled and should pose no more threat to Fort Hannover. In addition…"

The image of the city disappeared, replaced by a blown-up shot of one portion of the city. Dark purple waves resonated from one particular building in the image. "One week ago, my scouts and I discovered an abnormally large amount of husks clustered around this sector. We infiltrated the district and detected large spikes of radiation, mostly harmless, within the vicinity. We managed to pinpoint the energy at this building. Judging from the type of radiation and the husks, we believe that the source may be a...enemy stronghold, a location in which they can recover and raise troops. Therefore, this is also a mission objective."

Lieutenant Hook withdrew his omni-tool, turning his bright blue eyes to Coats and the rest of the remaining soldiers. "Captain Pershing will head this mission, alongside him, Captain Horst. Five squads will enter the city in a convoy. Enter with extreme caution; most of the area is unsecured, and air reconnaissance and support is minimal. Captain Pershing will brief you all before you leave. Gather your equipment and meet him in the northern exit in exactly fifteen minutes."

Lieutenant Hook looked directly at Coats. "If this mission fails, our position will be compromised, our base defenses will be weakened, and we may have to reconsider…abandoning our original strategy. Failure is not an option."

…

"A direct assault on Reaper territory? That's inadvisable at best."

Major Coats strapped on the remaining leg guard, sealing it with the rest of his body armor. Suit systems information flooded his visor and, after quickly skimming the stats, dismissed the report and deleted it. Lieutenant Krogh slid his combat knife towards him; Coats snatched up the blade and slipped it into his belt. "It's not as if I have much of a choice."

"I estimate that it would take us ten minutes to gather everyone and grab a shuttle."

"And even less time for the Blue Suns to send an armed convoy after us," retorted Coats, clipping three adhesive grenades to his belt. "But while I'm gone, we need to continue to search for Anderson. And also, see if you can find anything on Commander Singh. He's not the most open person, which that means you're going to have to snoop around the place until you find someone that'll talk."

"If they talk at all," Krogh snorted, "No one seems to be willing to say anything about Commander Singh at all."

"Yeah," Coats sighed, remembering Jecko. As he neared the door, he looked briefly at Krogh before turning away again. "Just keep everyone safe. I trust Singh as much as I trust a krogan not to start a fight. He'll stab you in the back if you're not careful."

"Noted," said Krogh, "You should go now."

"Yeah," Major Coats almost made it to the end of the hallway when he stopped, turning to the door on his left. The metal doors slid away smoothly, allowing Coats to quietly step inside the room. Captain Clark looked peaceful in his rest, still recovering from his injuries from the crash. Coats checked the time; he still had several minutes.

"I know you're there," Clark gave up all pretenses and sat up, wide-awake, "When are you going on the mission?"

"In a few minutes."

"Hm," Clark looked at his gun, which stood glinting in the corner of the room. He clenched his fist experimentally. _Not good enough. _"Where are they sending you?"

"Inner city. We're going to clean out some enemy resistance and investigate some artifact. Probably a Reaper device."

Clark grimaced at the thought, "Be careful around that. Wouldn't want you to get turned into a mindless zombie, seeing as I won't be there to cover your ass."

He looked thoughtfully at his omni-tool, then back at Coats, "You think they'll let me man an artillery station and fire at husks from base?"

"I think the idea is to lay low, not to attract every Reaper within a hundred miles of this fort."

"I promise to shoot quietly," said Clark solemnly. His eyes fell on the medical supplies next to him.

"The doctor estimated that it should take me a couple of days to recover. My diagnosis: Maybe a few more hours," Clark let his head rest against the pillow; the material was scratchy and bothered the nape of his neck. "I can't stay cooped in here forever."

"Generally when you're severely injured, you should probably rest to…you know…heal."

"There's such a thing as too much rest."

"Too much rest," he chuckled, "Out of everyone, soldiers probably need the most rest, what with all of us shooting at each other all day."

"We _should_ get more rest," agreed Clark, "After all, we do more work than the so called leaders of the galaxy."

"One of the great evils of the galaxy."

"Clark's Law: All active soldiers are required to have at least eight hours of rest before doing anything during the day."

"I'll eat my hat before that happens."

Clark chuckled. "You don't even own a hat."

"Contrary to popular belief, I _do_ own other articles of clothing. I happen to have hat back at home. Well, it might not be there anymore. At least in one piece."

"Shouldn't you be going somewhere?"

"Right," Clark grasped Coats's hand, pulling it in and gripping tightly. "Make sure you don't die," said Clark. "It would be an inconvenience since half of the squad is incapacitated." The major nodded, releasing his hand. Coats opened the door again, and left his foot in the doorway,

"While I'm gone, keep an eye on Singh. There's not a single thing about him that you can trust."

"Old news, man," chuckled Clark, "I'm pretty sure that I'm the one who told you that in the first place."

"Even so," said Coats seriously, "Check anyway. Don't let him repossess our equipment or something while I'm gone."

"Calm down. It's not like the whole base goes to hell when the amazing Major Coats leaves on a field trip."

"Not exactly my choice of words," said Major Coats, stepping outside, "Anyway, I have to go now. Remember what I said."

"Scout's honor," said Clark, holding a three-fingered salute. The doors closed.

Outside, most of the squads were already assembled, having boarding their vehicles minutes ago. Coats noticed that the convoy was made up of five, rectangular armored ground vehicles. Each vehicle was nearly ten feet high, wheels higher than his waist. The cockpit was positioned in the front of the vehicle, in the middle. Coats didn't recognize the make. _This base is pretty old_, Coats realized.

"No air transport?" said Coats, coming to a halt in front of one of the captains.

The taller one, whom Coats assumed was Pershing, turned to face him. "Not today, Major. Commander Singh is pulling all of the shuttles in for refitting and he doesn't want to lose any more than he has already. So we'll be grounding it for this mission."

"Yes, sir."

"You'll be serving under Captain Martland, heading Bravo team. That shuttle. He'll brief you when you're inside."

"Sir," As Coats walked to the vehicle, he felt a crawl on the back of his neck. It was a subtle one, but it sent shivers down his back. _Refitting? What does he need to refit them for, and why all at once? And then a ground mission in the inner city. Husks on all sides, no air support, no backup, not even a definable escape route. I've got a bad feeling about this one. _Coats suddenly regretted not having brought more equipment with him.

"Major Coats."

He looked up. Captain Martland, or who he assumed to be Captain Martland, was standing in front of the vehicle.

"Captain," said Coats, saluting.

"I don't bother with that," said Martland, waving his hand away. "Just embark the vehicle."

"Sir," said Coats, and boarded the vehicle. As he took his seat beside another soldier, he looked towards Fort Hannover. The door slid closed, cutting off the last vestiges of light from the outside world and plunging the hold into darkness.


	9. Red Sun: From Both Sides

**Red Sun**

**From Both Sides**

His face was almost imperceptible as the man in front of him silently accepted his challenge, confidently throwing away whatever he had left. Beside him, another man admitted defeat, sidling away from the intense triangle of competition that had formed between the three remaining contestants. He didn't even bother checking himself, knowing it was over. The last man met his challenge. Silence had fallen over the contest. Finally…

"Reveal," said one of the men, who was no longer playing.

The two men revealed their hands. The first man held two numbers, an eight and a jack, completing a straight on the table: eight, nine, ten, jack, queen. The second man grinned; it had been easy enough to see that he was very confident in his hand. His cards turned over: pocket nines. Combined with the third nine and the two queens on the table, he had a full house, difficult to gather and even more difficult to beat. The two men at last turned their attention to Krogh, who had wordlessly watched the game unfold before him. He blinked once, slowly, and his hand twisted, laying his hand flat on the table: pocket queens. A four-of-a-kind.

The second man chuckled lowly as Krogh began to gather the credit chits, a substantial sum for a refugee camp. "That was a well-played game, Lieutenant. You had me beat the moment he revealed the flop."

An hour ago, Krogh had accidentally stumbled into the mens' poker game in the mess hall, which was sparsely populated by a few refugees and a group of mercenaries sitting in the corner of the room. Before he had even sat down to drink and gather his thoughts, the men had roped him into playing poker, even throwing a couple of chits into his pile to get him started. What had initially started as a humble entrance into the game quickly turned into a one-sided contest as Krogh effortlessly bluffed, tricked, and bullied the rest of the men into surrendering or losing their chits.

"Bloody good poker face is what it is," muttered the second man. "Like staring at a wall."

"You were never that good at poker anyway," mused another man, who had lost all of his money in the first few rounds. "Luck and alcohol was the only thing keeping you in the game."

This earned guttural chuckles from the circle of men, who each took another swig of beer. Krogh's mug remained relatively untouched. "Might want to keep it down tonight, guys," said one of the men, a burly fellow. "Heard the Commander's cutting down our rations again. So unless you want to drink until you're dry for the week…"

To the men, this seemed a catastrophic turn of events. The man who had held the straight drank the rest of his mug, setting it down on the table with a loud clang. "That's it for me tonight then," he burped. "Will, you might want to save those rations for later. There's no point in getting wasted tonight if you have to stay dry for the rest of the week."

Will, the man who had held the full house, looked at his mug disappointingly. What had seemed a reasonable amount of alcohol now looked pitifully small. "Damn."

"Actually," said Krogh quietly, "I don't drink that much. You guys can have my share for the week."

The burly man looked at the lieutenant incredulously as if he had suggested that he commit suicide. "Really? All of it?"

Krogh shrugged in response. Will didn't waste any time, grabbing his mug and stumbling to his feet. "I'll be back," he said, and he was gone.

"He'll look like a shuttle just ran him over in the morning," commented the man who had finished his mug. "He never seems to realize how much alcohol he can hold in him."

"Well, if he's doing it…" said the burly man, and walked away to join Will, leaving Krogh and the remaining two men at the table.

"So what's your story?" said the man with the straight, taking another swig, as if in preparation of a lengthy tale.

"I'm an Alliance soldier," replied Krogh calmly, sipping at his mug. "It's more or less the same as everyone else's."

"Come on," said the man, grinning. "Everyone's got a story. We got aliens invading Earth. That's a story."

"Leave it, Garrett," said the other man. "If he doesn't feel like saying anything, then he doesn't have to."

"What the hell, Connor? I was whittling him down!"

Krogh clasped his hands together, resting his elbows on the table. A sea of husks swarmed before him, screeching and crawling their way towards him in a desperate attempt to kill him. Lightning flashed, and a brute suddenly appeared, inches away while roaring like thunder, a horrible grin stretched across a twisted and gruesomely deformed face, blue corona flickering in and out of its empty eyes… "I've never been much of a storyteller in any case," admitted Krogh. "It's not really my thing."

"Well, I demand a story," said Garrett stubbornly, taking another swig from his mug.

"There was this one time where you didn't say much," muttered Connor. "That was fun."

"Shut up."

"We wish you would."

"Doesn't matter," announced Garrett, finishing the last of his beer. He looked slightly intoxicated. "I'm going to tell my own damn story."

"We're very interested," said Connor dryly.

"So there I was, in the middle of Phoenix, with only three of my friends left. You see, they had left with me when those aliens attacked. Anyways, so there we were, in the middle of Phoenix. We were starving and we could hardly walk; we hadn't had any real food for a week, you see. Then, somewhere in the city, my friend Manny points out an honest-to-God steakhouse that was still barely standing."

"I doubt that there'd be anything left in there," commented Krogh.

"I didn't think we would find anything in there either, but my friend Jerry is fucking crazy and goes inside anyway looking for food. We follow him of course, but my finger is still glued to my gun in case a husk jumps us. He checks the freezer and there's nothing. But when he looks deeper inside, he pulls out an icebox. We check inside, and what do you know, there's fucking steaks inside the thing! Steaks! In the middle of goddamn Phoenix in the middle of a warzone!"

"Let me guess," said Connor. "You ate the steaks?"

"Damn right we did," said Garrett proudly. "Course, we were lucky to have Manny, who was the only one out of us who could actually cook a decent meal. We found some leftover materials in the kitchen and, with a little makeshift stove, we fixed up a pretty good set of steaks. God or whoever's out there must've been watching over us that day…"

Connor shook his head. Krogh heard footsteps and turned around just in time to see Will and the burly man walk back, three mugs in each hand. "The keeper told us to tell you that you're completely out for the week," declared Will, setting the mugs down. "On the bright side, I just bought a longer night."

"You just missed it, Will," said Connor. "Garrett's amazing story."

"Hold up," said the inebriated man. "I want… to make a toast. To the lieutenant."

"And the Alliance," added Krogh.

"And the alliance," he added, holding up his mug shakily. Four other mugs joined his above the table, meeting with a hearty clank. Will nearly finished his drink. "May we never… not have enough drinks to go around."

"Amen to that," agreed the burly man, and proceeded to busy himself with his mug.

"Anyways," said Will, shaking his head, several more times than likely needed. "What did you want to say again, Garrett?"

"Never mind," he replied, flipping through the cards again. "I've already told the fucking story once; it'll stay buried until next time."

"Suit yourself," said Will.

Krogh looked at the drinking men. More than slightly intoxicated, each man seemed barely able to stay seated, much less stand. I guess now's the time.

"Will," said Krogh, turning to face him. I'll start with him first.

"Yes, my good man?"

"How long have you been here?"

"Hard to remember," answered Will doubtfully, a look of intense concentration on his face. "I guess maybe a week, a week and a half."

"How did you get to Fort Hannover? I doubt you just knew that the Blue Suns were here."

"Pure, fucking luck. The Blue Suns rescued me and my friends outside of the city. Husks chasing us, beer, I mean ammo running low… the whole nine yards."

"What do you think of Commander Singh?"

Will paused, as if he was unaccustomed to answering that question. That's actually likely. "The Commander's… a pretty good guy. All he asks in return for keeping us safe is to run along with his men in a couple of routine missions. Usually not that bad."

"There's no way he's just 'a pretty good guy'," Krogh pressed. "I've met with him several times; he's a bit of a 'hard-ass'."

"Yeah, I'll give him that too," admitted Will, starting on another mug. "Sometimes he can be a bit strict. Cutting our rations. Ordering us to our rooms in lockdowns. Throwing a couple of us in lockup. I think the worst was when—

"Wait," interrupted Krogh. And there it is. "He threw people in lockup?"

"Yeah," said the burly man, stopping Will. "A couple of guys a week or two ago, some time before us, started calling the Commander out. Telling him that he was just taking advantage of us and the other refugees in the area. Singh had them all put in lockup for it."

"There are other refugees in the area? How?"

"Not everyone wants to join the Commander," piped in Connor. "Some don't trust him."

"Heard that he was even taking food and supplies from them," said Will as he drank more.

"Yeah, and it's usually the Alliance that don't like him," agreed Garrett.

"What do you mean, the Alliance?" said Krogh, intrigued.

"Like, there was this other group of Alliance soldiers that came here a week ago. Kind of like you guys, with sort of the same armor and shit. They had a captain who pretty much told the Commander that he didn't like the way he did things, you know, with him stealing and ordering all of us around; It's pretty annoying sometimes. Anyways, the Commander threw him into lockup too and his men. Haven't heard from them since."

"Wait, there are other Alliance soldiers here? In Fort Hannover?" said Krogh, any weariness gone.

"Yeah. Them and that captain. What's his name again?"

"Ferguson."

"Not, Ferguson, you fucking idiot," said Will, attempting to snap his fingers as if the action would help him remember. "That's a merc. His name was…Ferrell! That was it. Ferrell."

Krogh was reeling. That's why he has managed to contact us. And why we haven't seen a trace of him. He just got here earlier. I have to make sure the others know.

"I'm surprised Singh hasn't locked you guys up, either," continued Will. "He doesn't like Alliance people much."

"Yeah," said Krogh absentmindedly, getting out of his seat. "In any case, I have to go now. My squad just called me back. I'll talk to you all later."

The men raised their mugs again, some of them empty. "To the Alliance!"

Krogh was already gone, quickly making his way back to the rooms. As the men returned to their previous conversation, the mercenary who had been quietly sipping at his own drink behind the chorus of men slipped away, leaving behind his mug and a pulled-out chair.

…

The wheel rolled over another pothole, more than slightly jolting Coats. Each bump and hole in the road sent another series of vibrations and tremors through the tank. Its shock absorption systems were unsurprisingly out-of-date. The only light in the truck emanated from small red lights in the ceiling and the glowing fluorescence of the man's skin in front of him.

Neon circles, appearing to be randomly placed, lined his arms and neck area, though it was possible that the pattern continued throughout his body. Fluorescent gene mods were very quickly becoming popular among the youth in the last decade with the emergence of less expensive forms of modifications and the increasing availability of gene therapy for recreational use through extensive legislation, especially on Earth. Fluorescent gene modders were colloquially known as "fireflies" among the denizens of Earth. The most common colors of the mods were bright neon colors, generally yellow, magenta, cyan, or light green. For this one, the colors were yellow. His irises were even glowing yellow, likely due to colored lenses rather than gene mods.

Coats glanced around him. Other than the firefly, most of the other mercenaries were more or less average looking. And nearly all of them looked grim. Can't exactly blame them, given the past few weeks and what we're about to ride into.

"Hey, human," said a flanging voice one seat down across from him.

Coats turned his head, acknowledging the nearly disembodied voice in front of him. He could see a vague outline of the turian's head. It was likely that the turian could see him much more clearly, being able to pick the newest member in the truck under the cover of darkness.

"Why are you here?"

Coats thought about it for a second. Because due to pure chance, my sperm cell made it to an egg and I was born nine months later. Then, when I was a little boy my father used to tell me all the time to go into the military. After college, I chose to stay in an Earth contingent instead of going to space. So here I am. "To fight."

The turian smiled thinly. "Thank you for the vague, politically correct answer. Now actually answer the question."

"I'm here because people need me," replied Coats. "That's the truth. Why are you here?"

"I work here."

Turians have a sense of humor too, I guess. "I thought most turians tended to stay within Council space, let alone the human homeworld."

"I'm not most turians, human."

"Major Coats," he replied.

"Corporal Jarar Veravius," said the turian. It's strange. You would expect a turian, even one in the Blue Suns, to respect the difference in rank. Maybe there isn't an equivalent in the turian ranking system.

"Since we're introducing each other now, I'm Captain Martland." The bearded captain stood in the middle of the two rows, facing the squad. "We're running slightly behind the original scheduled mission, so briefing will be quick.

"Our convoy will enter the city and route the husks in the inner city. Then, we will enter the objective area and eliminate the enemy stronghold. Armored units will remain outside and provide fire support and cover our asses when we enter. Captain Pershing will lead a unit around the back of the building while three of the squads, lead by Captain Marshall, Captain Dawson, and myself will attack the enemy front. Captain Horst's squad will stay with the convoy. Then, we extract and return to Fort Hannover. Simple. We're almost there anyway, ETA ten minutes." Captain Martland returned to his seat.

Simple. It's a word that almost never applies to war like this. If only it were "simple" as that. "Major Coats?"

He turned his head to the source of the question, a rather young-looking man with buzz cut brown hair and blue eyes. Eyes that looked as if they had never seen death, seen the hardships of war. Eyes brimming with innocence and hope. It's been an eternity since I've seen eyes like that.

"Where are you from?"

"I'm from London," said Coats shortly.

The young man frowned. "How are you here then? Wait, sorry. I forgot. I'm Private Carter."

Coats nodded in acknowledgement. "I was born in London. Didn't stay. I was part of the Alliance Vancouver regiment."

"Wait, wasn't Commander Shepard there?"

Coats chuckled. "Was. She barely made it out before transportation in and out of the city was cut off. Commander Shepard's out there now, gathering support from the Council for a united fleet to take back Earth."

"When hell freezes over," commented one of the mercenaries.

I don't feel optimistic myself, really. But if you give up hope, what's there left to fight for? "You don't think so?" questioned Coats, looking to his right.

The bald mercenary turned to the major, looking at him with world-weary eyes, shockingly different from the bright orbs of the young man. Whereas his eyes had held a glint of innocence, this man's gaze was blank. Unmoving.

"I've been a mercenary for over a decade," said the merc calmly. "I've seen what comes out of Citadel politics. They can't ever get anything done."

"They do have a human councilor now," the young man piped up.

"A politician is a politician. As usual, the humans are on their own. Again."

"The Hierarchy will definitely help the Alliance," said Jarar. "They're allies."

"You think the Hierarchy even has the time to help the Alliance right now?" the bald mercenary snorted. "Just take a look around you. Those ships blew through the Alliance fleet to get here. We haven't seen a ship of our own out there in weeks. If there hasn't been a single attempt to take back Earth, then it's probably because the rest of the galaxy's in trouble as well. Likely fighting those things."

He looked at Coats. "Does the Alliance have a plan?"

I could lie. I could tell them the Alliance is planning a massive counterattack and the Council's has got its back. I could tell them that Commander Shepard is coordinating with the Alliance and will bring a fleet anytime now. Hell, I could tell them the Alliance has got some sort of superweapon to kill the Reapers. They would believe it.

But I won't.

"No," answered Coats quietly. "Just to survive."

The mercenary looked satisfied, grimacing. "Like I thought. We're on our own."

"Don't mind Devon," one of the mercs spoke. "He's just pessimistic."

"If you all are done with your therapy session," announced a voice behind the group. "then get your asses ready for combat! First enemy position is coming up on the right! One klick away!"

One of the other mercenaries scrambled to the center of the vehicle, standing on a raised platform that Coats only just noticed. The platform shifted slightly and then slowly rose up while the vehicle roof above him shifted and widened. A large gun appeared on the roof of the truck as the section slid away entirely, and soon the merc's torso disappeared from view. Beside him, the mercs were propping their guns against the walls, holding onto them tightly.

"These parts of the truck slide away for our guns," Jarar explained, checking the sights on his rifle. "We ride up next to the target, the windows open, and we fire until there's nothing left of the enemy."

"Sounds simple enough," Coats grunted, and lifted his rifle to the height of the window. Silence gripped the room. He could hear Carter's deep breaths as he mentally prepared himself aloud.

"Enemies on the right! Open fire!"

The windows slid away with a clang, and Coats fired. In front of him, a decrepit, war-torn building stood in the middle of a small courtyard, sagging slightly from its damages. And in the courtyard, husks. The truck maneuvered around the courtyard, drawing circles in the thin layer of rubble that covered the block. Their guns chattered away as husk after husk split open in their vain attempt to reach the truck. Coats could hear the machine gun above him snapping away at the Reaper forces along the building front. His hearing disappeared into a steady hum and his vision sharpened as his mind unconsciously selected targets on the battlefield. Cannibals and marauders appeared from the building, laying down an impressive wall of slugs that bounced off the truck's shields, sending thousands of microscopic waves of energy rippling across the barriers.

One. His scope dragged to the left and sighted another cannibal, this one's face wide open and screeching. His rifle kicked back slightly and angled to the right again. Two. Marauder this time, not even looking at him as his rifle flashed bright blue and the target disappeared. Three. Coats's finger squeezed the trigger instinctively as his scope swung to the left: two headless corpses hit the ground.

"Captain Martland, there's too many of them! We're getting swarmed! We need to back up!"

"Belay that, Veravius! Mow them all down!"

"Get this truck to the next checkpoint!"

Someone behind Coats screamed, and the major glanced behind him for a fraction of a second. A husk, latching onto one of the mercs. Carter fumbling with his sidearm. Captain Martland recklessly firing at the husk, not distinguishing between merc and creature. The husk flew out of the truck and the merc clutched at his side, stained red. Another merc bent over him to apply medi-gel. Coats turned back to the window and fired…

…and almost fell out of the window as the barrel of his rifle jerked downwards, slapping against the metal window. A grisly, black hand gripped his gun and a second one grabbed onto the side of the window, gaining leverage.

Survival time. Coats deftly unclipped his pistol and put his weight on the stock of his rifle, levering the barrel of the gun up and the husk in. He smashed the butt of the pistol against the husk's head, startling it. Then he fired, six times, all in the head. He smacked the rest of the husk out of the truck and fired indiscriminately through the window until his pistol hissed in protest. "Brute!"

Suddenly people were being flung out the windows and which way was up or down it was impossible to tell through the sound of blood pounding in his ears and Martland was screaming words that he couldn't hear over the chaos erupting around him as if the world was ending in that second, and he barely remembered to tuck his head into his body before everything abruptly vanished.

…

He blinked. My eyelids hurt. That's not a good sign. He thought about moving, and tried it. His left thumb twitched, and his right foot shifted slightly. An unknown pressure on his right shoulder prevented him from rolling it without enduring excruciating pain. Right. I guess that's about it.

Coats concentrated on his senses. Clouds. Okay, so I'm lying on my back…I think. Nothing but wind, so at least there aren't any husks nearby. Of course, that also means that the mercs aren't here, which means they abandoned me, or they're dead, which also means they abandoned me. Rocky surface, so I'm probably lying on rubble. And fortunately I don't smell anything unusual. So the only thing left to do is to get moving.

He drew up his right knee without much effort. Moving his left leg was a much more painful endeavor, but Coats clenched his teeth and drew up his left leg as well, albeit much more slowly. He waved his right hand experimentally and decided that it was strong enough to rest his weight on. Turning his body slightly, he placed his right hand underneath himself and his left hand tentatively along with it. Slowly but surely, Coats lifted himself up as if he were doing a push-up and then moved his right leg towards himself, staggering to his feet. Coats rolled his shoulders and winced as burning pain shot through his left. Probably bruised. Definitely shouldn't strain it.

It was then Coats remembered where he was and quickly looked around, scanning the perimeter for any sign of Reaper forces.

The truck had crashed, that much Coats was sure of. A crumpled mass of metal jutted out from a pile of rubble to his left, with its back door ripped off. Several meters away, a few mangled bodies lay strewn on the road, among them Captain Martland. Coats slowly made his way to the body, partially to avoid straining his already strained body and partially to avoid making too much noise, in case his footsteps attracted more husks.

Movement brushed his right foot, and Coats pivoted to face his enemy, impulsively drawing his rifle from his back. Nothing. The major glanced around the area once more, and then slowly began to turn around.

"Major…"

Coats looked down. Private Carter was embedded in a pile of rubble, arms and legs splayed out on the ground. His helmet had been jostled enough so that the visor covered his forehead instead of his eyes.

"Private Carter," said Coats, clasping the private's outstretched hand. "It's good to see you're still in one piece."

"Hahaha…" Carter laughed weakly, stumbling to his feet. "It sure doesn't feel that way." The private suddenly frowned and looked around quickly. "Wait, where are we? What happened to everyone else?"

"Dead or injured," answered a flanging voice. Jarar Veravius walked slowly towards the pair, obviously in pain but simply ignoring it in the classic stoic turian manner. The bald mercenary was with him as well, a small, bloody gash running along the side of his forehead. Aside from that, he looked relatively unhurt.

"What do we do now?" said Carter, suddenly panicked.

"We definitely can't walk back," grunted Devon. "We're too far into the city."

"We'll have to find the anomaly." Three heads snapped towards him with varying degrees of incredulity, but Coats's face was deadly serious.

Carter was the first. "Why?"

"We're not going to make it back to the base. Alive, that is. If we stay here, in the open, in the middle of the city, we'll probably die. And if we stay in the city, even if we find a building to take shelter in, we'll be ambushed eventually, likely in the dark. And we won't always be able to fight them off."

Coats pointed in the general direction of the anomaly. "Our convoy was sent to investigate that strange object. Chances are, they'll be there. And if they're there, then we have a way back."

Slowly, Jarar began to nod. Carter looked uneasy. Devon scowled. "Then what are we waiting for?"

...

A lone husk lumbered along the wall of an abandoned living room. Its eyes swept the room almost lazily, as if it had walked through this path hundreds of times. Dusty chairs, dusty counters, dusty tabletops. Its hand brushed the wall, and stopped. It had touched this wall hundreds of times. Why did it stop this time? Perhaps it felt something.

Bang. A massive wall of metal crashed through the wall, flattening the husk until it was little more than a black smear on the grimy floor. The truck continued to smash through the room until it finally exited the house, continuing to barrel through the neighborhood.

"Keep going! It's following us!"

Behind the truck, along the trail of devastation, a lone harvester thundered towards them, screeching and firing salvos at the retreating vehicle. A torrent of red rained down over the truck, landing frighteningly close to the truck's shields. Inside the truck, the space was filled with red light and a piercing alarm sound.

"Kinetic barriers at 20%, sir!" The truck dipped low as it entered a massive crater in the ground and bounced back up again, and the pilot's helmeted head smashed into the console in front of him. "18%!"

"Damn it!" Captain Marshall swore, staggering to the front of the vehicle as the truck rocked back and forth. "Forget the shields! Get me a line to Captain Pershing!"

"Online now, sir!"

"Sitrep, Captain," spoke Captain Pershing, oddly calm amidst the chaos within the truck.

"We're being pursued by a harvester!" Marshall snarled, holding onto one of the seats for support. "We've lost contact with Martland and Dawson since we were separated. The objective is a couple of klicks ahead of us, but we can't get to it with this damn harvester on our backs!"

"My trucks have located your position. Stay alive."

"Damn difficult!"

To their right, two more trucks joined the fray, skidding next to the first truck. Three guns now trained on the harvester, shredding the beast and tearing baseball-sized rents in its wings. The Reaper creature quickly descended, crashing ungracefully near the remnants of the convoy. The harvester roared and spat fiery explosives at the trucks, barely absorbed by their kinetic barriers.

"Hit it with everything you got!" Three missiles shot out from the bellies of the truck, accelerating until they reached their intended target.

Boom. The temperature of the surrounding air suddenly rocketed to the thousands as the harvester exploded, raining burning material around the block. The Blue Suns convoy barely escaped, skidding left and right to avoid the firestorm above.

"Thank God," Marshall breathed, sitting down hard.

"No time for relief yet, Captain," said Pershing. "Captain Horst is currently engaging the enemy stronghold and needs immediate assistance. Let's get moving."

"Captain Horst!" Marshall slammed his hand into the comm panel. "Damn it. Does anyone copy?"

"Private Dan Lewis reporting, sir!" a voice answered back. "Captain Horst has been hit and we're trying to raise him. The truck's been shot and we're pinned down at the fountain in front of the objective building. We've got marauders pouring out of the building and more husks inbound! Two men are injured and we've only got eight of us holding them back. We need armored support!"

"Our ETA is roughly two minutes, Private," Marshall responded. "We're coming as soon as we can."

"Then you'd better…what the hell was that?!" The private's voice suddenly cut off.

Marshall frowned and pressed the panel again. "Private? Private! Who are you talking about?"

"…It's Major Coats!"

Another bullet cracked across the battlefield, cleanly drilling a marauder through its forehead. Coats quickly slid behind the wall as the bulk of the enemy forces began to focus fire on his building in earnest. Beside him, Jarar and the other mercs laid down more covering fire as the Blue Suns began to fight back, firing an impressive volley of slugs at the enemy, which began reeling back from the renewed offensive.

You'd think they'd have run out of soldiers by now. Coats popped out and fired another shot, ringing another marauder straight through its head. A second later, a glowing blue-eyed turian husk appeared in the same window, which Coats immediately took notice of and shot again.

But I guess they don't have to worry about dying as much, since their soldiers are just taken from ours. "Private Carter, suppressive fire on the right! Multiple hostiles flanking on their right!"

"Yes, sir!"

"Corporal Veravius, bottleneck those husks at the front door and slow them down!"

"Yes, sir!"

"Devon, enemies on your left. One o'clock!"

"Got it."

Time seemed to dissolve into a eternal cycle as Coats fired, reloaded, and fired again. His head felt a familiar sensation as his body supercharged itself. The reaper forces slowed down exponentially as his own reaction time shot through the metaphorical roof. Everyone beside him seemed to be firing in slow motion while he remained within the normal flow of time. His eyes barely aimed down his sights as he mechanically primed his rifle and fired without a second thought. One husk on his right. Crack. One husk on his left. Crack. One marauder in the building. Crack. One cannibal nearing his own building below him. Crack. One husk on his right.

Crack.

His scope swung to the left. Nothing. And just like that, Coats snapped back to reality, fatigue and exhaustion setting into his muscles. He looked around again. Where'd they go? The major lowered his rifle. What?

The entire battlefield had gone silent. The only thing he could hear was the rhythmic heavy breathing of the mercs beside him as they, too, surveyed the silent scene. The mercenaries were stepping out from behind their cover in an almost wondrous state.

"We did it," Private Carter cheered, holding up his rifle.

The mercs below him whooped in celebration. Jarar seemed to sigh as he leaned against the wall. Only Devon remained motionless.

Coats also felt uneasy. "Devon? What are you thinking…?"

"…I don't think so," said the veteran tightly. His eyes seemed to burn into the building ahead of them. His hand gripped his rifle hard. "No way it's over. No way in hell is it over."

One's a hunch. Two's a possibility. Major Coats sighted his rifle again. Through the front doors, he could vaguely make out the back wall of the lobby. He took a deep breath, and focused. Coats briefly picked a point on the wall, and fired.

The wall was splattered with blood. Something moved and hit the wall, and it was then Coats realized that he had hit a body. That had been standing. Shit…it's definitely not over.

"Major, what are you doing?" the private asked, frowning.

Coats fired again at the wall, and blood flew across the room again, and another body slumped against the wall. Now he was picking up some movement in the shadows, where there was almost no light at all.

"Everyone, get ready!" Coats shouted across the battlefield. "They're coming!"

Jarar immediately placed his rifle on the window. Devon was already in position, stoically staring down his sights at the front door. Carter was scrambling to pick up his own weapon. The mercs below were in various states of confusion.

"Major Coats," said Private Lewis through the comms. "What are you talking—"

A deafening screech blasted across the courtyard, drowning out all other noise. Coats had heard that scream before. It was the sound of a husk, right before it attacked. Only this time, it had sounded like a chorus.

A husk emerged from the shadows. And another husk appeared behind it. Two more husks appeared on either side of the first. And another. And three more. And five more. Suddenly, a wall of obsidian-black flesh burst from the building, covering the ground in bodies. From Coats's point of view, the other half of the battlefield had become shrouded in an impenetrable, dark cloud.

The horde had arrived.


End file.
